Mother of Vengeance
by Leliel12
Summary: After slaying a monster to protect a former friend, Taylor absorbs something of him-and his mutative power, encoded in his genes. Reborn as a monster queen in waiting, the newest member of the Wards faces fear, confusion about her new life...and a rather crazy group of other monster-kings just arrived on Earth Bet, looking to carve out the world for their own kingdoms.
1. Chapter 1 (Usurper)

**Author's Note: Hello everyone! Spacebattles saw the oneshot that this was and demanded I expand it. Since I already wanted to expand one of my oneshots, I was happy to oblige.**

**Standard Issue Disclaimer: ****_Worm _****belongs to Wildbow and not me, Birthright and D&D belong to Wizards of the Coast, as does the concept of awnsheghlen, all of which was made by Rich Baker and Colin McComb. All characters herein belong to one of the other property holders. In other words, please don't sue.**

* * *

**Mother Of Vengeance**

**A Worm/Birthright (AD&D) Crossover**

* * *

**Usurper**** 1.1**

* * *

I curled up under the covers, still uncertain whether I was awake or in a nightmare. For the love of all that was good and just in the world, I hoped it was the latter.

"Taylor?"

At the edge of my awareness, I became aware of someone calling my name.

"Taylor, honey?"

Oh. My dad.

Slowly, I uncovered myself and, with what might have been a ten-ton weight on my chest, got up, fully expecting a look of fear or disgust.

Nope. Sympathy and empathy. My dad was reacting the way I desperately wanted him too. Which meant this wasn't a dream.

Then the tears started.

* * *

_I couldn't think. I couldn't speak. I couldn't even breathe._

_Dimly, I was aware of hot blood traveling down my arm, already cooling. I also became aware of a look of other shock and dismay on the man-lion's face._

_"Damnation. I knew you were a strong one."_

_Then, looking more disappointed than anything, he fell over, giving me a look at the deep wound my scissors had inflicted on his upper chest._

_The last thing I remembered before I fainted out the sound of lightning and thunder._

* * *

"Ms. Hebert?"

I looked up at the therapist. Yamada, if I remembered correctly. Didn't know why they got her.

"Are you feeling okay?"

"What do you think?" I immediately regretted the caustic aside as it escaped from my mouth. "I mean, no."

"Taylor, please. You're not going through this alone." Yamada gave a comforting smile. "You were scared, you were angry, you saw that monster threatening another student, and you did what you could to defend her."

"The second, mainly," I admitted. "Look, I'll be truthful here-I _hate_ Emma. I _hate_ her with the fury of the sun. I wasn't trying to defend her."

It took a second for her to realize what I was implying. "…And you think that you killed the Sphinx for the pleasure of having done so."

I hadn't, but I didn't know what I thought. That made as much sense as any. I felt the pain of tears forcing their way out again, for the fourth time that week. "…Yes."

"Taylor, I don't know why you and Emma hate each other-"

"Because she's a bully!" I screamed, suddenly angry again, but not at Yamada. "She's a horrible, fucking awful person who has made my life hell for the past year and a half, and that's after she…after she…"

I looked down.

"Used to be my friend."

I weight that I didn't know was on my chest came off. I felt Yamada put a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"And yet what made you angry was the fact that when the Sphinx began to hurt her, you didn't see Emma."

I looked up at her eyes.

"You saw another student having to suffer her cruelty, and you realized the Sphinx would keep on being a bully, and a murderous one at that. You couldn't stand for that, and that says a lot about you. A lot of very good things about you. Taylor," she said as she leaned in closer. "You aren't the Slaughterhouse 9."

I let out the breath I had held for a week. "Thanks," I muttered

"And that is our time for this week," she said as she glanced at the clock. "Since your school leave ends next week, how does Saturday sound?"

"Sounds fine."

As I left, I suddenly remembered I forgot to tell her about the dreams. Damn. Oh well, I could get to them next week.

It wasn't like they were of the Sphinx. Or even that nightmarish.

* * *

_I was dying._

_I was dying, and there was nothing I could use in My vast array of magic to heal._

_As the armored form of Anduiras strode towards Me, sword in hand, I internally flicked through the scenarios of what plans I could use to escape._

_I could exchange My essence with that of one of My generals. Nope, they would die in my place, and I didn't know if I could plan my way out of a situation I knew nothing about in My current state._

_I could distract him and run. Yes, try to fool the god of war into falling for a last-minute strategic feint. That would work. Besides, My workings would probably be destroyed on the off-chance I wasn't being sarcastic._

_So yes, the greatest of the gods was about to die. And My workings would go with me._

_…unless._

_I had studied apocryphal stories of other deicides on other worlds in preparation for (what seemed at the time) inevitable victory. I knew that the power of our astral forms would do anything in its power to survive, even past the death of the sapience attached to them. Thus why dead gods could be reborn._

_From that, I knew that, frequently, the astral essence of a god would embed itself in those worshipers whose qualities their lords prized, in their very genetic code. This was almost certain to happen, given the direct physical presence of My Army. Probably with My rivals as well._

_Normally, said power resulted in either nothing worth noting or slight increase of thaumaturgic aura potential, and thus the ability to take on a proper adventuring carreer…but those instances weren't intentional._

_In the last view moments, I sculpted My essence one last time, as I mentally connected with every mind that had proven itself Worthy to Me. In the space between their souls and consciousness, I spoke one last command as the sword came down, one meant for My essence more than they._

Go forth, and continue My Vision, My noble Children. Go forth, and let no other stop You, for you are My Heirs, my adopted Lineage. I leave the future to you.

_As My own soul came apart in a great explosion, I sensed My essence embed itself in My Heirs, and begin sculpting their bodies to match their true selves, free of all restraints, even the weak, soft forms that My brethren had given them._

_My last act was a grin._

* * *

Ooo-kayyy…wasn't sure if that was a nightmare or not. Nightmares didn't end with you winning.

I yawned and dragged myself over to the mirror, feeling a lot better than yesterday. Which is to say, not suicidal. I still felt pretty miserable, but I least I was sure I wouldn't snap and start killing people.

Huh. Parts of my hair had begun to clump together. I lifted my brush towards them _sweet merciful Jesus that hurt ouch._ I had apparently let my hygiene go more than I realized. Had to get a professional to disentangle that.

I also detected my skin had gotten rather dry on places on my arms, though I didn't feel uncomfortable. At all. Huh.

I hoisted my backpack, made myself breakfast, made some spare for my Dad (apparently he was still asleep), and proceeded to gather my courage before heading out the door into a crisp night air.

Wait. Back up.

I looked up, and yes, it was still the night. Quite close to being the morning, but it was still technically night. I felt like I had a full night's sleep in, what, four hours? Even more than that, I kept on registering enough light to see by, to the point where only the stars and moon told me it was still nighttime.

Now thoroughly confused, I went back inside.

* * *

The strange events didn't stop.

Over the course of waiting for school, my hair began to clump more and more, Not wanting to feel like a hot poker was in my scalp again, I tried to ignore it. This wasn't effective, and well-cultivated survival instincts drove me to keep on checking it, trying to prevent the natural braid from showing to the Terrible Trio and give them more ammunition at a very bad time for me.

It was apparently even dirtier than I thought. It felt...unnaturally smooth. And scaly. I could even swear I felt my hand touching it.

Eventually I decided it would show more if I kept worrying about it, so I did my best to will it to be unseen.

I swore I could feel it adjust to be better hidden.

I suppose trying very hard to ignore the sign of potential insanity, and not focusing on the world around me, is what led to Strange Event #2, when Dad woke up.

"Oh, you're already up YOUR HAND IS ON THE STOVE!"

I yelped and drew back from the hot girdle I had decided to make hashbrowns with out of a desire to repay dad for his kindness in comfort food during the past couple weeks...and felt absolutely no pain. In fact, now that I looked at my hand, I only saw what could have been to a mild sunburn what I was to an elephant.

"No, no, it's okay Dad." My own disbelief in the truthfulness of those words shown through as I showed the hand.

He sighed in relief, taking his portion of the hashbrowns. "Look, honey. I know you want to leave this all behind you, but you can't push yourself like this. Frankly, you're under a lot of stress, and nobody would blame you for-"

"Look, I'm okay Dad!" A bit of desperation was in my voice. "It was horrible, I still feel guilty about it, but I have to look forward, I'm okay with it-"

"Taylor, you don't sound okay."

No. No I did not.

I would have probably called to delay school another day, were it not for Strange Event #3 rearing its ugly head. A brief flash of something that wasn't quite smell danced through my mind if I regained my composure.

"Yeah, you're right. I mean, I've been taking it out on my homework, you on the dock workers, we've all been a little...stressed?"

...How did I know that? And why was I so certain?

Why the hell did I thing bringing that up was a good plan?

Too late. A look of embarrassment and pain came to Dad's face. "They told you about that, did they?"

I could feel the blood rushing to my own cheeks, combined with the shame of bringing up Dad's temper. "No! I mean, uh, I guessed...which doesn't mean you've been angry with me, no I just thought that...I'm running out of time see you!"

Thus, for the first time in my life, did Taylor Hebert get to school an hour early. Sans backpack.

* * *

If I thought any luck with bullies would improve, well it did. Not very much, and now the school was scared of me.

Emma, at least, seemed to get the idea you don't stab the people who saved your life in the back. The other two thirds of the Terrible Trio? Not so much.

"Ah, so our local murderess shows her face again."

Screw you, Madison. Screw you.

"If you're going to pick up the slack for Emma, please remember that I know that she, unlike you, used to have a soul. To me, your words as empty as your head."

Madison looked about as taken aback as I was. Where had _that_ come from?

…I wanted more of it, but still, when had I grown a spine?

"S-So?" She regained her composure. "At least my heart isn't cut open, bleeding out on the tiles-"

"Oh don't worry your pretty little head, I_ only_ aim for the heart. Given its capacity, I'd estimate, oh, five hours before it pumps out enough blood to cause trouble. Assuming the strain doesn't cause a heart attack."

Okay, now I wanted less. That was too mean, even for her. She garbled out something unintelligible that might have been a comment about my weight, before sulking back to Emma. Sophia was still there, though.

"…When did _you _become a badass?"

…Okay, not what I was expecting. Still, whatever newfound bravery I had driven me to look in her eyes. "Unlike you, I actually have more skills than looking good in a swimsuit."

"Hey, I can do more than-Ahem. " She ruffled her hair a little, breathing in a little to gather her breath. "Actually, despite the tag-along loser seems to think, I'm here to apologize."

….What.

"Look, I'm going to give it to you straight. I underestimated you. Moment I saw you, I thought you were weak. A prey animal."

Prey animal? Huh?

Apparently she picked up on my confusion. "Way I see humans, not all of us are apex predators like we should be. Most? We're just the herd of people who are, who are strong enough to take life by the horns and be endurance hunters like we're supposed to be."

I suddenly understood Sophia, more than I ever wanted to. And understood how loathsome she was as a person. Another echo of almost-scent went through my brain as I gripped my tray tighter

"Good predators? They're just as cruel as the evil ones, but they take care of their herd. Keep it safe, like a sheepdog keeping dumb ewes from crossing the track and being eaten by wolves. Sort of like you and that man-lion thing.

"So, I was thinking. You aren't a weakling, so I think if you learned how to stop being scared of hurting other people and show some of those guts with people other than Madison-"

"Everything will be nice and we'll be friends and it will all be sunshine and unicorns with bloody horns because Taylor and Sophia will be best friends forever?" I didn't know when I had gotten to my feet. But I was on my feet, almost growling. "Excuse me, but _what is the disconnect!?_ You don't just get to apologize and erase like, fucking _everything _that has happened between us!"

"Look, I get that. That's good, but as hard as it is to believe, I'm honestly trying to help you-"

"I. Don't. Want. Your. Help." I spat. "I don't know exactly what the hell happened between you and your mom's boyfriend, but it has _nothing_ to do with me, and-" I stopped. When did I know Sophia had a single mom, and a bad boyfriend for a stepdad?

And when did Sophia drop her tray and look like someone had just stabbed her in the gut?

…Oh God. What have I done?

I stepped back, mortified at the bit of Emma that had shoved itself out of my mouth. Then I became aware of my sprinting to the bathroom.

Scrubbing my hands rapidly and washing my face, I noticed the dry bits had grown a bit, and become tougher.

Then I heard the sizzling, and saw that the sink had corroded a little under my fingernails (which, I idly noted, needed to be cut). Surprised, I looked up.

My face had changed, even from earlier that day. My features were softer, rounder, and_ prettier_ than before. Not by much, but definitely something I would have noticed if I checked. More than that, a strange, greenish substance was drying around my tear ducts. On a whim, I scratched a bit of it off and rubbed it against the wall. There was another sizzle, and the tile cracked.

I was a cape? Well, that would explain the sudden knowledge of Sophia's family history, but-

There was movement in my hair. I froze.

Said hair parted ever so slightly, revealing an ophidian head with scales the same exact color as my hair. The snake looked around, then tasted the air. I felt the same echo of almost-smell echo through my head, and this time I could make out the individual scents of the bathroom, from the stench of people doing their business to anti-sceptics. Mixed in was the scent of a hundred swirlies, a dozen forced fines to use it, at least a couple assaults.

Had I enough presence of mind to think rationally, I would wonder how the hell I knew what those things smelled like, and why I could smell them. As it was, I was too busy focusing on the fact that a snake now lived in my hair, up until it retreated back into it.

A few minutes later, I became aware I was outside the school, hiding in a bush while breathing rapidly. From how hoarse my voice felt, I think I was screaming for all of that time.

* * *

"So, these…changes didn't start happening until you went back to school?"

Dr. Yamada, bless her soul, was taking in my new body a hell of a lot better than I was.

The mutations didn't stop over the course of a week. More of my hair clumped and animated into very fleshy snakes attached to my cranium. There were four up there now, each with a mind of its own and constantly tasting both the air and various crimes unless I told them to stop. The dry parts on my skin had not only completely covered them, but become yellow and very, very tough; I now had bird talons for both my arms and legs now (and thank god for that, as I discovered their toughness as it saved me from a very stupid mistake-the same mistake as to why Yamada's schedule was now open on a Friday, and why I was now living in a hospital bed). My nails were more claws now-I could cut them, with effort, but they weren't going to break accidentally now. I also had noticed I only wept acid when I was angry, which was probably a very good thing.

"Yeah." I scratched a wing. "These came in the day before yesterday."

"Ah."

Oh yeah. The wings. They weren't ugly wings, but they were very large, very tough bat wings. Which also grew over the course of five minutes; one second, I was rubbing my back against a wall to rid myself of an itch, the next wet, wrinkled wings were shoving their way, painlessly, out of the nape of said back (which lead directly to Stupid Mistake, as my control over the snakes slipped and I was overloaded by the alley I was in, and had visions of what happened there. When I came to, Dad was confiscating a knife and I had indents on my left talon). I now officially looked like a mythological monster. Three cheers for parahumans.

Yamada sighed. "Taylor, I know you feel like fate is dealing you a bad hand-"

"More like several." I had long since resolved to talk to Yamada about my newfound anger problems, but that wasn't a product; I sounded more defeated than anything else.

"…because you have been very unlucky these past few weeks," she admitted. "After the whole Sphinx fiasco and you show remarkable recovery, you start turning into a Case 53 with no warning, and become overloaded by your new sense of awful things that happened six months ago. I don't blame you-given what you described, I'll admit I would have done everything to get away from that too."

"What? The alley or my life?" I looked up at the roof. "My mother is dead, my best friend betrayed me, I _murdered_ someone, I turned into a freakish monster as my cape power…Doctor, does God hate me?" I chuckled darkly. Really, at this point I wouldn't be surprised.

"Actually, I'm going to ask something myself first: Can you use those wings?"

I jerked my head back to the therapist. "I…never thought of that." Which was the truth; I was in a depressed, confused haze for the past day and a half, I never quite realized that parahumans don't mutate unless they can use those mutations to some effect. "Is it…legal?"

She helped me up. "As long as you're in here, and I think there's enough room to hover, at least. If you need more space, I can ask for you to use the grounds."

Opening my wings, I hummed slightly to myself while Yamada got out of the way, and flapped.

"Gah!"

I tumbled over my bed, did a somersault, and somehow managed to steady myself before I impacted the wall, my toe-claws making gashes in the floor as my new limbs beat furiously to keep myself steady.

Yamada had to suppress a laugh. "You…may want to tilt them down next. And not so strong."

Good idea. I willed my wings to face the ground, and made a much smaller motion.

It wasn't a hover. More of a high jump, only much less strenuous. I did it again, then flapped in midair to brush the ceiling, before coming back to the ground almost soundlessly.

Slowly, I began to giggle, then laugh. For the first time in at least a month, I felt genuinely overjoyed. I could _fly!_ I could actually _fly!_ Alexandria, Glory Girl, Legend-I was walking in the path of the great, and frankly given what I knew of their pasts, I'm pretty sure that I was the most utterly overjoyed to discover that the ground no longer bound me. Finally, fucking _finally_, my powers came with something that didn't screw me over somehow.

Well, unless I got caught in a jet turbine or something. So no capes, unless you counted the way my wings hung when I didn't use them.

Yamada was beaming. "And look on the bright side! Besides your wings, your other mutations aren't exactly ugly."

Which was true. I could will my snakes to hide, and my talons weren't actually all ugly and monstrous, just hawk-like. And, uh, my face didn't stop getting prettier. Or other areas. In fact, I was actually quite femininely beautiful now, just…obviously a cape. You win some, you lose some. Everything that had happened, all the hell I had been through since I had developed my powers, didn't seem so bad.

This high probably wouldn't last that long, but dear God did I ever need this.

But, one last thing.

"Um, Dr. Yamada? Before you go, I'd like to talk to you about these weird dreams…"

* * *

**A/N: Edited out some profanity, as I kind of want this to have a T rating. Think the F-bomb qualifies as something that puts it in M territory.**

**Here's a little game for you non-Spacebattlers, who saw my brainstorming: What mythological monster does Taylor look like? Winner(s) get mentioned in the next Author's Note.**


	2. Chapter 2 (Usurper)

**A/N: And the answer is: Erinyes, also known as the Furies!**

**Congratualtions, En and maleficus-lupus!**

* * *

**Usurper 1.2 **

* * *

The high lasted a lot longer than I thought it would. But I suppose that was a benefit of being a pessimist; you could be pleasantly surprised.

I also guessed my expectations were an extremely low bar to clear, seeing as how my estimated time-to-breakdown was ten minutes after Yamada left. It was closer to two hours.

That's when I discovered yet another downside of my powers; the ability to discover things you were better off not knowing.

Four of the doctors and nurses, for instance, were adulterers. I didn't really care about that (if anything, I felt bad for them), but the smell of adultery put my mind in places I did not want to go, since it also revealed…the favored method of adultery. I had to take a shower after that.

More alarming were the drug addicts. Or the drug _thieves_, actually. Thankfully, neither was a medical professional, but still, I vowed to never get hurt in this asylum. Or develop insomnia.

The last guy was just plain disgusting. As a prank, a Dr. Sheldon Bixby apparently thought it was a great idea to pour sugar in the director's car engine, resulting in him having to replace it altogether. Apparently they didn't teach you perception of obvious bullying jackasses in medical school, hence why he still worked here.

Even so, I bit back on the bile I had for him, at least for now. I didn't trust the director to believe the word of a freakish mutant over a trained pharmacologist, and in any case I didn't know how competent he was in his professional-

As I passed by Dr. Bixby to get my dosage of antidepressants, one of the Medusa-snakes tasted the air. And my hair, since I had willed them to stay coiled and hidden, but also the air.

_Started rumors about you, said you were some kind of "freakish Gorgon wannabe", laughed at a remark about how you were rejected from the Succubus Beauty Contest._

Succubus. A female demon who drained the life of men she slept with and mothered minions from them. Disposable minions.

…Screw restraint, Dr. Bixby was _dead._

* * *

The first part of Plan Extract Jackass from Job was to figure out exactly how much stuff I could gather on him before I went to the director, a Dr. Adler.

Given the sensitivity of my Medusas, I was honestly more worried about finding something redeemable in the man, a place where he had conveniently misread a prescription in the way he had actually recommended it, ignored a religious objection to a life-saving treatment, or overlooked a minor error from someone he liked rather than finding sins I couldn't overlook. I suspected Adler would be all too happy to fire someone who had jacked up her insurance premium singlehandedly, I just wanted to give more legitimate reasons to avoid the headache of a lawsuit.

It was something of a bittersweet moment to discover that no, Dr. Bixby was worse than Sophia. Among other things, he had actually ignored the drug thieves, harassed a nurse, did not understand the meaning of "bedside manner," and was generally a horrible excuse for a human being. On one hand, now I was sure I was on the moral high ground, but on the other, how did this guy avoid being sued for malpractice for so long?

The second item on my agenda was actually gathering said information without gathering attention to myself. Infinitely easier said than done. Besides the fact I was on suicide watch (level one, admittedly, which just meant checking in every couple hours and having an orderly follow me around out of my room, no shoelaces or other possible implements of self-harm allowed), the staff avoided me. I didn't blame them. I had seen my face in a mirror, and even I was a little scared of me. Yes, I was definitely more attractive, but it was a hard, edged beauty that enhanced how freakish I looked rather than downplayed it. I was able to hide the snakes in my hair unless I got mad, and my talons under bandages, but my wings? Trying to bundle my wings under my gown caused a lot of pain and turned me into a hunchback. Not something worth it to avoid attention. I supposed it was good for undercover tracking when I was a hero, but in a hospital on a mission of spite? Not so much.

Thankfully, I also learned something about my snakes; the more I focused them on something, the more I could get detailed information from it, even how long ago it was. The pure-scent ability was shot in a sterile hospital environment (and thank God for that, I don't think I would want to be treated in a non-sterile hospital), but the sin-scent? Not so much. Doing that to Bixby was what allowed me to figure out all the crap he had done in the last six months, and hanging around places he had worked gave context (turns out the two drug thieves had pain problems that they overmedicated, one was actually a war veteran with inoperable shrapnel. I made a note to help that guy when I could).

Which led to item #3; convincing the director of my powers.

"You wanted to see me, Ms. Taylor?"

Dr. Adler was an older woman, mid-50s I guessed. To her credit, I didn't detect much sin-scent from her. Well, I did; she was a chronic speeder and more than a tad of a liar to protect her personal ambitions. But nothing that I really objected to, especially given none of her sins involved mistreating a patient and her foul opinion of hospital bureaucrats.

"Um, okay." I cleared my throat. First things first. "Yamada told you about my powers, right?"

"Yes? Is there something wrong (white lie)?"

The thing about smelling sin, I had quickly discovered, was that I could smell deception as it happened, and the extent of the deception thereof. I had discovered that after I came home from school after my first Medusa revealed itself, as Dad tried to desperately dance around the issue of my mutations.

Which was sweet, but I also felt terrible about doing so when he was only trying to be nice. So _I _lied to Yamada about it, which much to my annoyance tripped off my scent. I had to learn to make the snakes stop tasting the air reflexively if I wanted to avoid that for daily life.

"Well, I wasn't entirely truthful…Tell me the most subtle lie you can think of in a list of facts about yourself."

She thought about it. "Okay…I'm named after a Sherlock Holmes character, I've played the violin since I was seven, I failed English in college but got a 3.5 average, my password is a name of a person (half-truth) and I own three dogs."

I rose an eyebrow. Interesting woman.

"The password is a name, but not of a person, or a person, but not a name."

She shrugged. "The latter. So you can detect lies?"

"More than that. You called your boss a 'pedantic, pretentious, pontificating, and self-righteous asshat who wouldn't know real medicine if it popped up and took a bite out his obstructionist, tightwadded backside, metaphorically speaking', oh…" I let a snake taste the air. "Two-to-three weeks ago?"

Her jaw dropped. "You're a mind reader?"

"No, actually my sin-scent is a lot more precise than I admitted." I sighed. "If it happened six months ago, I can tell you what it was, and if I have enough time and focus, the exact content. Honestly I need to gag these things before I get too cynical." I gestured to a Medusa I had let poke out.

She shook her head. "Okay. I don't know parahuman biology, but I can call up the PRT-"

"That wasn't what I wanted to talk to you about." I closed my eyes to steady myself.

"No? What is?"

"It's about your pharmacist. Dr-"

"Oh, _Christ_."

Steadiness gone. I looked up at Dr. Adler, who was now cradling her head. "What did Sheldon do this time?" she muttered through clenched teeth.

I mouthed wordlessly for a second. "Th-this is a thing? He's actually been a jackass for this long?"

"Oh, _hell_, yes. Have I told you about the time he poured sugar in my car?"

She knew about that? I felt myself getting angrier. "W-well, why haven't you fired him!? If he's that much of an ass you recognize him by _profession_, why the f-"

"Because he's the boss' son."

…Oh.

I calmed down. "That would explain a lot."

"Look, even if you couldn't tell I was lying, I'm going to be honest with you." She leaned back in her chair, still rubbing her head. "Bixby deserves to be in our esteemed accommodations and not in front of them. The man is chronically unable to stop himself from acting like a douchebag or persuade himself from one of those practical jokes. He feels horrible after he does so, so he's no sociopath, but believe me when I say the only reason I haven't recommended a leave of absence is that the only person who doesn't realize he has a problem is his father. Note that I am including Sheldon himself in my reference pool."

And now I felt bad for attempting to sabotage him. I looked down. "Actually, I'm sorry for wasting your time-"

"No, no, it's okay. If he's being an ass to a patient, we need to hear this." She looked up.

"Well, my sin-scent caught a night with his friends…."

She listened to my explanation without comment or expression. At the end of my laundry list of sins, she cleared her throat. "Yep. Classic Bixby. Didn't know he covered up a drug theft, either, may in fact finally get his father to pay attention; he'll certainly have to leave. I'll have to put those guys into rehab too." She sat up. "Still, why did you react like that? I'm not Yamada, but declaring a vendetta because you overheard nasty rumors about you isn't like you, Taylor. You, and I quote, 'try to vanish' instead."

That…was a really good point. What the hell? I'd heard about mental effects having powers had on people, but still, I didn't pick up grudges like that.

I thought about it for a minute. "…I think it's because he compared me to a succubus."

"Go on." She nodded.

I sounded as uncertain as I felt. "I think….I think it's because of what a succubus does. I mean, it's a sex demon, so for one I'm being called a slut, but I remembered that a succubus mothers children to serve as minions."

"…This is about your mother, isn't it." A note of comprehension came into her tone. Hence statement, not a question.

"I…guess." I tugged at my gown a little. "But it's not just that. I always thought of succubi as treating their children as disposable. Being very cruel and callous."

"Let me guess; you thought you were called cruel and callous yourself, you reacted poorly given your trigger, and decided to confirm that Bixby was being a complete hypocrite and prove that you aren't by extension."

Didn't psychiatrists learn how to be less blunt? But she was right, and I was tearing up now. "…Yes."

"Hey, hey. Don't cry." I felt the embrace. "You're angry, hurt, and scared, but you aren't cruel. You thought he was trying to attack you in some way, and you reacted badly. Nobody blames you, and you helped me get his leash back on."

…Amazing how being able to tell someone was being perfectly honest helped mental therapy. "Thanks."

"No problem. You don't become the director of an asylum through incompetence." She thought a bit. "Hopefully."

* * *

I was expecting Dr. Yamada to be aware of what happened between Adler and I. She did not disappoint.

Instead, she herself was disappointed. "You are aware doctor-patient confidentiality exists, right? I wouldn't have told your father."

"…It never crossed my mind," I admitted.

Yamada sighed. "Look, Taylor. You're a very bright and determined young woman, the kind of person that would overcome depression through sheer willpower if that was possible. But it isn't, and I can't help you if you aren't honest with me."

"I'll try."

"Okay then..." Yamada adjusted her ponytail. "You were right to go to Dr. Adler about Bixby. He probably needed that even more than you if she's telling me the truth." She looked up from her notepad. "Still, I can't help but notice you're trying to avoid me. If you're agitated about something, you can be honest."

Manipulation, said the sin-scent. I hit the responsible Medusa with a finger. "I've been thinking about what Adler said, about the fact I reacted so poorly to being called a succubus, and why."

"Yes, and?"

I looked down at my claws. "She...wasn't wrong. I hated being called cruel, or callous."

She sat up. "And the reason you're upset about something?"

"Because...I'm not sure he's wrong. I've had anger issues ever since my trigger, and you don't stalk a person for two days and figure out ways to hurt them because you're nice." There. I said it. Thank God.

Yamada processed this information, then smiled. "Well, if you're worried about it, you can't be that bad, can you?"

My mental workings screeched to a halt. After I rolled over her remark in my mind for a while, I sighed and fell back in my chair._ Derp_, I thought to myself. Three cheers for Taylor's brain, missing the forest for the trees. Again.

"And that would be the other part," I muttered to no one in particular. "I get obsessed over these things."

"Hm. So you're worried not only about your anger, but that you can't let go of things easily anymore?"

"Not that true. I was _never_ good at the latter."

"Okay, if that's the case here's an old therapist trick." She leaned forward. "Lets think of a safe word."

My mind flashed back to the adulterers. Dear God, why did I smell that trash can why why why?

"I can tell what you're thinking of, and no, not that safe word. Just something you focus on whenever you feel yourself getting angry or obsessed. Visualize it, attempt to devote every part of your brain on it until you calm down and can think rationally. Then tell me about it."

I thought about it. Anything to do with Mom was right out, then I'd be depressed and angry. Something with Dad? No, I'd seen his temper and that might intrude. So something nice off the top of my head, like…

"Butterflies?"

"Butterflies sound wonderful. Now, about your dreams…

The rest of the session went a lot better.

* * *

"So…Miss Militia."

"She seems to be the official recruiter for Brockton Bay, yes."

I was finally in proper clothes now. Tight ones, yes, but at least they were clothes and not a gown. Probably would have been better if the bit of wing not out of the holes Dad had cut for me wasn't straining against them.

Trying to ignore the pain of this, I looked at the approaching car, and a rather dark though struck me. "…Do you think they'll take…someone like me?"

Dad put his hand on my back. "Just be you, and I'm sure you'll be fine."

A Medusa struggled against the tape I was using as a muzzle, so I didn't know if he was that confident or not. Still, it was the thought that counted. I smiled. "And think about butterflies, right?"

Dr. Yamada, who had decided it was probably a good idea if both of my anti-stressors would present, said nothing, just gave me a thumbs-up.

I breathed in, and focused on the swallowtail in my mind's eye. Taylor Hebert was going to be a hero, and nothing, not Sophia, not my mutations, not my fear, was going to stop me.

I willed the swallowtail to multiply before the other parts of my mind chimed in.

* * *

**A/N: I apologize to any therapists in the audience for completely mangling your profession. And probably Dr. Yamada too, the nicer and saner someone is the harder they are to write for me. There is no quirk I can seize on. Actually had to rewrite this after publishing due to the fact that I didn't know what I was talking about, and I knew it.**

**Also, are there any beta readers in the house? The automated grammar check is helpful, but definitely lacking a human touch. And the fact that I edit a chapter already published when I take it in and realize an error that I can't ignore and drags down the quality.**


	3. Chapter 3 (Usurper)

**A/N: Now that that embarrassment's out of the way, let's move on to other embarrassments! …Why does Miss Militia have to be sane? I thought Worm was about people fundamentally incapable of facing their own problems…wait, we meet Shadow Stalker later this arc. Nevermind.**

* * *

**Usurper 1.3**

* * *

What struck me most about Miss Militia-or should I say Hannah?-was how…not intimidating she was up close.

I guessed that was the reason she was sent to recruit new Wards. The other therapist I had, between the two weeks of Yamada's visits, was more than a bit unsure of what to do with me, as his specialty was depression rather than capes, but he had a refreshing amount of common sense regarding parahumans. I knew enough about Armsmaster through research he advised to know that the erstwhile leader of Brockton Bay's capes was the kind of person you consulted if you wanted to make the Protectorate seem very unappealing. Dragon, besides being Canadian, was an agoraphobic who communicated with the world through her remote suits; warm and charismatic, but definitely not with the human touch through her viewscreens and armor. Beyond that, there weren't that many recognizable sponsored capes around Brockton Bay (to wit, I learned one called himself Chubster, and I think that would have stuck in my mind if there was a big news report on him).

On the other hand, you would expect the woman whose entire power was to create guns would be…more aggressive, maybe? More like her power?

Not that I minded, but still.

"No bull, please," I cut off a particularly friendly remark. "I know you're trying to be nice, but I really don't need the snakes' running commentary."

She looked utterly taken aback. "But I was saying-"

"That I'd be able to live as close to a normal life as possible?" I gave a rather caustic laugh. "Sorry, but I don't need hypersensitive snake hairs-slash-detective tools to tell me that you don't honestly think I'll be able to have a life outside being a hero, or even get a resemblance to the old one." I tapped a brown, unmuzzled head for emphasis, having taken off the tape at Hannah's asking as a gesture of her openness. "As it is, you're just distracting with the smell of you trying to be polite. No offense."

She paused for a moment, as I realized that this kind of thing probably wouldn't happen if I was honest about my powers beforehand and oh look at the pretty monarch pin.

"Speaking of which…you say you think those…"

"Medusas. I call them Medusas."

"Makes sense. Those Medusas smell sins? Why do they detect people being polite? I mean you consciously control them, right?"

"You saw the CAT scans?"

"Yes, I did."

"Well, you know the Medusas have their own nervous system and brains?" I pulled one out, a surprisingly long distance. Pity they weren't poisonous, though I could probably use them as part of a grapple. "The theory is that, when the CAT scans are fully examined, they're going to find more than just a lizard brain up there. Dr. Adler did some tests a couple days ago, and she says they show self-awareness and the ability to coordinate themselves, like dogs. One tried to clean off a dot an orderly painted on its nose, and when that didn't work another came over to help." I let it crawl back in. "Dr. Adler told me about the Corona, and they think the snakes are my version. Since it seems that personality influences power, I think it might be because they're stuck in the state I was during my...event," I finished lamely, trying to avoid the memories.

Hannah followed along. "And they're paranoid and easily upset."

"And they seem to work off the idea I judge everything I wouldn't like on general principle, no matter the reason," I said as I sighed and looked at my uncovered talons. "Don't know why I turned into a Case 53 though-"

"You didn't."

"Eh?"

"Case 53s are actually a lot worse off than you. The only personal memories they have is their name, if that. You, on the other hand, have a very loving and supportive father who put you in infrastructure designed to support you when the mutation became overwhelming."

...So I was still massively screwed over by my power, but at least I was luckier than the other guys? I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"And in any case," she said as she adjusted her scarf, "the Wards don't discriminate. The Boston team is led by a Case 53, and as mentioned, you aren't one."

"…What does he look like?"

"I refuse to answer that question on the basis that your Medusas may incriminate me."

I chuckled despite myself. "In any case, I don't miss my old life very much. About the closest thing I had to a friend betrayed me to befriend this girl with this crap law-of-the-jungle philosophy. Then, just when I get back to school, she acts like it was no big deal, I'm a predator too, let's be friends. Then my snakes activate, and I accidentally bring up her mother's boyfriend, and-"

"Um, pardon my asking, but who is this student?"

I looked up at a suddenly very concerned Miss Militia.

"Sophia Hess? The track team and swimming ur-bitch?"

Now she looked utterly mortified. "You...wouldn't happen to have gone to Winslow, would you?"

It was my time to be alarmed. "Yes?"

She opened her mouth, then closed it again before looking away.

She then looked back, looking very sympathetic. The kind of sympathy that one has for someone you just realized is the kicked dog of fate.

"Even if you couldn't tell if I was lying, I wouldn't. You may also want to sit down, because you aren't going to like this."

I did so, willing the monarch pin to become larger and larger in my mind's eye.

"Shoot away, no pun intended."

She told me.

The monarch pin became more of an inferno pin.

* * *

Both Hannah and I agreed that I probably needed a few minutes to calm down from "hovering through the power of pure rage while screeching a long stream of profanity that could be heard by the Simurgh" mode.

Still breathing heavily, I exited the interview room, trying very hard to think of swallowtails again. In the theater of my mind, they all shoved their way down Sophia's throat, causing her to suffocate to death despite going immaterial. Probably not what Yamada had intended, but definitely satisfying.

Speaking of Yamada, she and Dad were rushing over, having heard (and possibly be rendered partially deaf) by my tirade.

"What happened, honey?"

"Miss Militia just told me who Shadow Stalker is."

"And?"

I collapsed on a chair. "Her real name is Sophia Hess."

It took all of two seconds for Yamada to put the pieces together from my interviews, before giving me a sympathetic hug, gingerly avoiding the acid tears. "Oh God. I'm so sorry."

"Wait, who's Sophia Hess?" Dad looked utterly befuddled.

"The worst bully in school," I said dully.

It took all of five seconds for him to connect the dots himself. If I didn't know any better, I would say he spontaneously triggered with the ability to turn purple. "Taylor, please forgive me," he said as he calmly (too calmly) walked to the door of Hannah's temporary office, and gingerly closed the door. A minute later, you could tell where I got it from.

I tried to return the hug, but mine was more of a touch. I was still too spent from raging at a cruel and spiteful God and His legion of snickering angels.

She eventually broke the ice. "Taylor, nobody will blame you if you don't want to work with her-"

"That's the thing though, isn't it!?" My energy returned. "Here I am, wanting to fulfill my promise to Mom, and do something actually _good_ for a change instead of rot on the exact freaking bottom of the school hierarchy, all ready to join a team and be _happy_ and have _friends _for once in my life, and guess who's in the Legion of Superfriends? Sophia _FUCKING_ Hess!" I broke free of her embrace and punched a wall to avoid hitting Yamada instead. The talon-scale absorbed the hit, and actually made a scratch in the tile. If I weren't ready to become a multiple murderer yet, I would have probably noted that more consciously. "I wanted to become a Ward to _escape_ her and all of her _bullshit_, but _nooo_, it turns out she's our anti-Endbringer cape! Who's to say the rest of the Wards aren't like her, huh!? Who's to say they won't join fun activities of shitting on the snake-haired, bat-winged…bird-taloned…acid-crying…"

No, no, no, don't cry, don't cry, and now I was crying. Damn it.

"…Freak…."

I sank to the floor, ignoring the sizzling as real tears washed out my acid ones onto the floor.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't _fair._

I felt a hand on the back of my back. Not Yamada's. Dimly, I registered the owner's screaming had stopped.

"Hey Dad," I said quietly.

"Hey Taylor," he said hoarsely. Apparently he was even louder than I thought.

"If I may intrude…" I heard Yamada's heels come up, then my Dad's hand move over slightly to let Yamada's in.

Slowly, I felt myself stop shuddering, then rise to my feet. I took out the monarch pin again and begin to rub it, letting the one in my mind flit about imaginary flowers to calm myself down.

When I felt safe, I let myself put the scenario together. First, I remembered just how much the Wards seemed to despise Sophia as much as I did. That cleared up one paranoid objection to the idea of joining.

Second, I thought back to her words that day. I remembered what she said about good predators protecting their herds. I still thought it was a loathsome philosophy from an even more loathsome person, but my Medusas were working at that stage, and I didn't get the sense she was lying. So she did honestly think of herself as a hero, albeit one with the most fitting "anti-"prefix imaginable.

Thirdly, I still felt terrible about bringing up her stepdad (in-all-but-name). I had learned long ago about trigger events (thank you, Yamada), and I had a sneaking suspicion that I brought up the worst moment of her life. So I really wasn't that differ_ahahahaha_ I couldn't think that with a straight face.

But still, she may have been a bitch, she was still a heroine, just a brutal one. I could swallow my distaste for her and not cost the Wards a much-needed member or two. Besides, it wasn't like she locked me in a locker and left me to die or anything, right?

…I didn't put it past her, but I was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

Thanking my father (and the woman I increasingly viewed as a mother-figure) I rose to my feet, and steeling myself, went back into Hannah's room.

* * *

"I'm still joining," I said bluntly.

Hannah, looking more than a bit frazzled after being treated to the infamous secret art of the Hebert Clan Rant twice over, looked up in surprise. "You're not angry about Shadow Stalker?"

"Actually, yes I am, but I'm a reasonable person," I said evenly through clenched teeth, speaking from the impromptu speech I had made for myself. "I recognize that she is a relatively effective Ward in her own right, complete lack of worth at being a human being notwithstanding, so I am willing to begrudge her continued existence. If the rumor on Parahumans Online is correct about her reason for recruitment, she may even help save our asses from, I don't know, Behemoth someday. _However,_" I said as I leaned on her desk. "We're going to have to agree on some terms first."

"If you want her or you to be reassigned, I can arrange-"

"No, not that." I breathed in, wanting to get the whole thing out in one go. "Let me make this clear; I do not like Sophia Hess. I am not liked by Sophia Hess. Sophia Hess and I despise each other with the fury of a sun that has not slept for the past week. Ergo, I wish to see as little of Sophia Hess as possible, and she likewise."

"Therefore, I ask that if I join the Wards, that I be kept as far away from Sophia as possible. Apart from the introduction and inevitable blowout between us, I do not want to have scheduled training at the same time and/or room as Sophia, I do not want to be put on patrols where Sophia is one of the members of the team, and if possible be dispatched far ahead of or behind Sophia so we do not encounter each other on the job and possibly try to strangle each other. Am. I. Clear?"

The fact that this speech was from a fourteen-year old girl probably didn't make it sound as serious as I wanted it to be, so I let my Medusas fan out with that last punctuation, along with my wings. I felt my claws dig into the desk.

Much to my surprise, it seemed to work. "U-Understood. I'll send the application to Director Piggot. A bit premature, but welcome to the Wards."

"Okay, good." I let both snakes and wings drop, yanking out my talons as well. "Sorry about the 'irate demon' act, it's just that…I _really_ don't like her."

"I…guessed. Just…don't do that again, please? You could get Iblis himself to shut up with that pose."

Iblis: The Islāmic Devil, and known for whispering ill suggestions into the hearts of man as that job.

Ouch. And…actually really impressive, come to think of it, especially from Hannah. Given the Medusas' abilities, I was bound for being an interrogator anyway, so I probably needed to augment my lie detector with the ability to play bad cop even better. Yes, and practice getting mad on command to drip acid to really make it effective, maybe tell a few invented stories of the last guy that pissed me off, and-

I caught a sudden sin-scent. Tasted like bullying. But Hannah hadn't….

Oh.

Oh God.

Think monarch, think monarch, think monarch…

As I calmed down from the potential guilty breakdown, I realized that actually wasn't a way my power screwed me over. If anything, it prevented me from turning into another Sophia. Good Medusa.

I hoped and prayed that I wouldn't wake up one day and find I gotten used to my scent, like I had with the minor stink I encountered every day.

* * *

"Are you sure about this?" my Dad asked me for the tenth time.

"See previous answers," I said, rolling my eyes. I had resolved that at least part of this was going to go badly, but at least I had plotted out the possible paths with how badly it was going to go and felt ready for most of them. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

"No really, are you sure? Because I'll go in if you-"

"No, no, this is something I have to do myself. I can't have a secret identity when the entire school knows I was found shivering in a bush with a snake growing out of my head, let alone all this." I gestured to my wings and arms. "You'll be granted housing in a PRT-patrolled neighborhood, I'll have plenty of time to unload whatever crap life throws me in there, thank you."

"O…kay," he said, obviously unconvinced. "But if you need anything, just call, right?"

"If I'm not too mad to speak, I will." I smiled ruefully. "See you later Dad. Love you."

'Love you too, Taylor."

I got out, in my "hunchback" disguise (depressingly, I found that caused people to avoid looking at me, if they at all noticed), and took a look at the PRT building, which was…a building. A heavily reinforced one, but it was a normal building otherwise.

I hoped this was worth it. But even if it wasn't-at least I tried.

* * *

**A/N: Notice anything new about the formatting? Trying double spacing this time.**

**Also, the part I have dreaded is coming up-writing Emily Piggot, especially given how Taylor can taste her prejudices and reluctance to interact with an obviously monstrous cape. Any tips?**


	4. Chapter 4 (Usurper)

**A/N: Screw it. Taking the plunge! Also keep in mind Taylor's anti-authority streak and the fact that she's not the most reliable narrator ever. Not to mention there are holes in the sin-scent, namely it can't detect actions Taylor likes or believe is justified on general principle.**

* * *

**Ursurper 1.4**

* * *

I had not expected Director Emily Piggot to be a particularly likable individual given my healthy disrespect of the school administration, and how she was the principal of the biggest high school there was.

She did not meet my expectations. If anything, I would have expected her to have happily taken each one and gleefully explain how I did not comprehend how much of an irritating, self-important, politically driven _bigot_ she was if she knew my opinion.

Even before the moment I saw the heavyset Director, my Medusas caught the smell of the actions driven by the contempt of her own charges. More than that was the sheer amount of _myopia_ she possessed if I was reading the scent right (didn't act based purely on prejudice, nothing in there about being an ass to normals). Yes, Director, please, let's show that parahumans cannot bully normal people…by bullying the parahumans. Brilliant plan.

At least she seemed to hate cape bullies as much as I now did, so I could at least make her listen to my stipulations for Sophia. I still put on the rubber bands I was now using for Medusa muzzles (and, not coincidentally, could be easily cast off if I ordered them to unhinge their jaw and rub them off in my hair) before I entered the room, as I didn't have to want to deal with Piggot's stink and possibly allow my already low opinion of her to show on my face should the Medusas smell her reaction to them.

Of course, after speaking to her for a bit, I discovered something else I disliked about Piggot, one that would probably color a lot of my interactions with the PRT.

"You're _reprimanding_ her!?"

A stick up her rear with the word "Protocol" on it.

"Yes, _reprimanding._ Not punishing, _reprimanding._" Piggot looked even more irritated than she normally did, a feat if there ever was one. "Frankly, revealing Shadow Stalker's secret identity to you is something that would normally get her probation from the Protectorate for months, possibly firing altogether. I declined to pursue that on the basis that it was likely very vital information that I would have granted permission anyway, but she was disinclined in a moment of weakness."

"But Hannah did nothing wrong!" I let my Medusas fan out again. "She just wanted to-"

"I am aware of that. Sit _down._"

Now it was my turn to be intimidated; Piggot knew exactly how to counter attempts to cow her, it seemed. I followed instructions. After she was apparently satisfied that I wouldn't come back with a cutting remark, Piggot spoke again. "As I was saying, everything would have proceeded in mostly the same way it did in the normal course of events, but what happened afterward demonstrates my point. Smith?"

A PRT member took out a tape recorder and hit play. _"…Miss Militia, I just heard something _very _interesting from my daughter,"_ said the abnormally calm voice of Dad before Agent Smith had to wince from the power of the Hebert Clan Tirade before clicking it off.

"Based on the fact that Dr. Jessica Yamada was also in the room, I take it you relayed that information to both her and your father?"

I quickly caught on to what Piggot was trying to do. "Nope. Not going there. You are _not_ going to blame the victim here, blame Sophia-"

"I do blame Shadow Stalker."

One could hear the record in my mind scratch. "Pardon?"

"While she was not responsible for your trigger, I do blame Ms. Hess for provoking such an extreme reaction in you, and if I had any choice in the matter, I would happily escort her to Detroit myself." She gritted her teeth. "Sadly for both you and me, she hasn't managed to dig her own grave far enough for that yet, so I have to settle for a tracking anklet and informing her parent for greater supervision."

A dozen questions appeared in my head, like "does an anklet even work on her?" and "her mom didn't know?" but selfishly, the first thing that occurred to me was personal. "You're taking my side?"

"On this, yes. But back to my point." She inhaled. "I think this should be obvious, but you can't inform others of your fellow Wards' real names and identities. Not even your father."

I felt defensive again. "W-well, who else!? You try holding that fact in when you feel like your one remaining hope at being somehow capable of a social life was just-"

"Still. Speaking."

I shut up. Piggot could give me pointers on the bad cop pose.

"Let me put it this way; as it is, you can't have a secret identity as it is. The fact that Taylor Hebert killed the Sphinx, also known as Ziz Lite, is a matter of public record, as is your rather public breakdown when you began to develop those…appendages." She shivered a little at the mention. "Quite simply, Daniel Hebert is going to be under armed guard for the rest of his life, because people are going to figure out they can get to you through him."

"…I fail to see what this has to do with Sophia."

"Because now he's a security risk for Shadow Stalker too, and if your powers were more subtle, he would be placed under armed guard anyway." She sat back and straight in her chair, the very picture of the unassailable leader. "There's a reason the unwritten rules exist, why no one attempts a real thorough investigation of identities-because the instant one knows of a parahuman's real name, one becomes a target for that parahuman's enemies. People like Yamada, who deal with the real identities of Wards on a daily basis, are trained to resist interrogation and avoid being abducted, but your father? Your father is the manager of employment at a dock. Unless his boss is spectacularly awful and emotionally manipulative, a mundane criminal would happily rip his mind apart to find out Sophia's identity."

I felt a pit at the bottom of my stomach.

"What's more, although both of us despise her, criminals are not stupid. Once they knew the civilian form of Sophia, they could track her, easily, given how her shadow form doesn't allow her to tell when she's being followed. From there, they could see her interact with the other Wards in their civilian identities, figure out who they were, and the next thing you know, the Brockton Bay Wards are now on the run from very eager villains, or we're in the back pocket of, say, Accord."

I didn't know who Accord was, but I got the context. I slumped. "I understand."

"Good. We understand that you need to talk about your problems in order to get over them, but please, if you must unload, unload on a PRT agent, a Ward, or a Protectorate member. Do you understand?"

"Understood," I said glumly.

"Good. Apart from that, your recommendations for dealing with Sophia are not unfeasible, I just want to go into details first…"

* * *

After being treated to the full power of the angry Director, I was half-expecting the Wards to be like Sophia.

Again, I reflected on the benefits of pessimism. When I went down to their training area, the first thing I noticed was the blur which resolved itself into a beaming young girl.

"Taylor right?"

"…Yes?"

"Hi, I'm Missy, also known as Vista. Do you mind if I completely geek out for a minute or are you sensitive about the way you look?"

"…Not…really?"

The next thing I knew, Vista was doing her best impersonation of a teleporter, helped by what spatial warping I could see; I knew it was her power, but I was still amazed at how easily she managed to be in all places at once given how quickly she was darting about.

"Oh my God, this is so cool! Do you see out of those things? How fast can you fly? Are those claws real? Can you tell what I did last night?"

My snakes were unmuzzled, but oddly, no. Couldn't have been that important if I couldn't pick it up. Or any degree of malevolence or fear-this was, in fact, Vista geeking out about how cool I looked.

…Appreciated, but now I felt fairly uncomfortable. Since when did people start paying attention to me?

Eventually, Vista slowed down, and space resolved itself back into its normal state. She was still beaming, although slightly less than before.

"Sorry about that. We haven't had someone so…unique (half-truth) before. I thought that I'd get a better look, because seriously, you're a badass."

"Um, thanks? Er, where are the other-"

"Oh, um, this way." She turned around and led me down the corridor.

At the other end was the lovechild of the exercise gym from hell and a museum of torture instruments. That batter cage, for instance, instead of a normal pitching machine, had what looked like a many-barreled Gatling gun. The fact that instead it had bean bags instead of balls in the feeding slot was about the only thing that indicated that it wasn't a particularly nasty form of execution. I still suspected it was used as a threat, however.

The more pressing thing, however, was the group of people in the middle of it. From the blue and silver armor, I guessed the man in the middle was Armsmaster without his helmet on, and I already knew Miss Militia (I felt a pang of guilt when I saw her, but I quickly reminded myself it was just a reprimand), which covered the adults in the room. The other Wards were arranged around them, the silver-and-rust figure of Aegis standing tall in front of Clockblocker and Gallant, with Kid Win standing somewhat awkwardly to the side.

Almost immediately my Medusas picked up the rather cynical motive for the album cover. I jokingly rose an eyebrow. "You do realize I'm only here because I'm joining anyway, right?"

And with that the clock-themed boy doubled over, ruining the pose with his laughter. Wordlessly, Gallant passed him a five-dollar bill as Vista rolled her eyes and Miss Militia muttered "I _warned_ you." Armsmaster himself did not react, remaining fairly stoic despite his attempts at impressing me falling flat. After Clockblocker recovered himself, he strode forward in an attempt to keep his dignity intact.

"Ms. Taylor Hebert, it is an honor to welcome you to the Wards, and gain your abilities as an investigator." At least he was perceptive, I thought to myself. "Perhaps you will actually be able to tilt the unsolved crime statistics back in the PRT's favor despite your inexperience-"

"Colin," Miss Militia warned.

"In any case, welcome," he hurriedly finished.

Now I was grinning, though probably not for the reason Armsmaster wanted. I respected his bluntness, if not the ego I smelled. In truth, I kind of felt bad for him, if I was reading the scent correctly; I could empathize with social cluelessness.

"Know that as much as your appearance marks you as a villain to the common man, I can only hope that the Wards treat you as a valued team member despite statistics suggesting that-Ouch!"

This didn't mean I particularly enjoyed social cluelessness when I was on the receiving end of it. Who were his parents, robotic wolves who gave him cooked pig's feet for dinner?

Dematerializing her bean bag-loaded air gun, Miss Militia came up beside her scowling teammate. "What my colleague's lack of any degree of social grace is trying to say is, we hope you will find your term as a Ward a rewarding one."

"I was trying to avoid tripping her scent…"

"She doesn't mind politeness, Colin."

Still scowling, Armsmaster (or Colin, now), waved over the Wards, before leaving himself. Apparently even he realized how bad he was at social situations.

Aegis came around first. "I hope our boss has not made you reconsider your future employment opportunities?"

"Nope." I smiled, and bit back the remark about Colin's said lack of tact my power wanted me to say. "You already know me, but I'm Taylor. Nice to meet you, please don't mind the hands I know they're rough."

"Carlos, also known as Aegis. I don't, by the way-they're actually quite smooth (white lie)."

I smirked. I suspected Carlos could take the mocking. "I haven't been officially revealed yet, and you're already complimenting my skin? Did I suddenly become a romantic comedy protagonist?"

He turned very red, and retracted the hand a bit more quickly than would be normal. "Oh God, there's _two_ of them," I heard Missy say.

Gallant next. "Dean, aka Gallant. Please do not make me use the serious beam, I think I might run out of juice between you and Dennis (lie)."

Dennis? "By that name, you mean Clockblocker?"

"The one and only." The unmasked timestopper leaned in between us. "Also, do the Medusas have a petrifying gaze? Because my heart stopped upon seeing you." He paused, ignoring the sound of Missy's hand hitting her forehead before melting into an expression of horror. "My God, the madness is spreading!"

"Fear not, noble citizen, Harlequin will not win this day! Quick, to the cold shower!" I laughed, more in relief than anything. I had expected my appearance to be more of an issue, hence why I spent all week training my sense of humor. Better to defuse the "scary" image with my team as soon as possible, even if I looked like a complete buffoon from then on. At least I would have company. "In all seriousness, though, I'm not a Gorgon. More like an Erinyes, a Greek goddess…" I held my talons in a stalking position. "Of _reveeeeeenge!"_

Dennis cracked up again at my bit of ham. Missy, on the other hand, rolled her eyes. "And here I was, thinking I could escape the madness with another girl…"

Dennis stopped immediately, and grunted. "Must…resist…obvious…joke. Want...to…avoid...being…turned…into…Mobius….strip…."

Missy only sighed at that.

The smile on my face was genuine this time. My fears were unfounded, it seemed-I detected no prejudice besides the obvious nervousness around snake hair, which quickly vanished. Perhaps this was still a high school, but maybe I could do it over again here, with actual friendship.

Right on cue, I heard a feminine cough. Not Hannah's or Missy's.

I froze, and turned around to face the source, already guessing who it was.

"Sophia," I said, taking out the monarch pin to rub and focus on.

"Taylor," said the archer sulking in the corner of the gym.

I hadn't quite known what to expect from Shadow Stalker when I saw her in costume for the first time. Bitter and angry at me for her humiliation and having Piggot put a gun to the back of her skull, certainly, but she looked far worse for wear than I had imagined. The term "headbutt fight with a concrete wall" seemed to apply, and her costume was extremely dirty and smudged, like she had been living in it for a week. She didn't look like the bully I had known for over a year, just…sad. I wondered if she had run away from home, given what Piggot said earlier.

Then I caught a whiff of her scent, and my sympathy died almost immediately. This was the same Sophia I hated, just a little bedraggled.

Almost immediately (and to her credit), Missy jumped between us and the air flickered a little as space extended. "Hey! No fighting!"

"Relax, Shorty. I can't, not without this ankle jewelry acting up." The obvious counterpoint to that sentiment was left unsaid.

"…Why are you even here, anyway?" Carlos was talking through clenched teeth. I'm ashamed to admit I felt a little thrill at discovering he was just as much of a fan of Sophia as I was, and that she couldn't do a thing about it.

"Ask the bitch, she wanted to see me during our Big Welcoming Party."

Everyone looked at me.

"…I wanted to get this out of the way," I admitted. "Better we have our blowout now rather than during a more critical time."

"…Really?" Dean looked at me awkwardly, then at Hannah, who shrugged. "She did ask for that."

"Well, whoop-de-freaking-doo, you got it." Sophia stood up straight.

She then gave me a look that, if they could kill, would have caused me to explode. "Do you have…_any _idea of what you did to me?"

"Says the bully," muttered Dennis.

"Shut up, quartzhead. This is between me and the snakehaired sociopath." She made motions like she was advancing, only apparently stationary due to presumably Missy. "Do you know what my mom thinks about superheroes? Huh? Do you know that I was _kicked out_ of my _own home?_ Huh!?"

I felt a momentary stab of pity for Sophia. Only a moment though. "At least you still have a secret identity. You just take off the mask and pretend you're a decent human being, nobody can tell the difference until you open your mouth."

"I don't _want_ to be _normal!" _she shrieked. "Normal people-they're sheep! Victims! I'm the person who _protects_ normal people, I want to be a goddamn _hero_, not Slaughterhouse 9 victim infinity!"

"And yet you can _pretend!"_ Now I was screaming. "_You_ weren't forced to watch as your body turned into a nightmare! _You_ can live in the body that doesn't send people running away screaming! _You _weren't confined to a fucking _mental asylum_ for a month because you couldn't turn off your power when you wanted it to shut up so you could _breathe!"_

Missy jerked her head around at the words "mental asylum." Good news: Doctor-patient confidentiality existed in Ward-world. Bad news: she broke her concentration, allowing Sophia to cross the room, and very quickly in shadow form, rearing for a punch while remaining immaterial to avoid Dennis' attempt to freeze her.

Instinctively, I covered my face with a wing, feeling a small impact on its bony fingers and hearing Sophia yelp in pain and surprise. Shortly thereafter, Hannah burst into action, quickly wrestling her to the ground. Dean showed up to help her while Dennis recovered his stance.

"Before you take her away and/or timelock her, can I just have one last word?"

Hannah looked at me skeptically, but brought up the struggling Sophia to face me, taser at her back to prevent her from thinking about going shadow.

After checking to see if the acid was flowing, I put on my "bad cop" pose, Medusas and wings fully extended. While I didn't intend for it to happen, one the snakes hissed, making me even more intimidating.

The color drained from Sophia's face, made all the more noticeable by her dark skin.

"Listen here, Sophie-I, unlike you, have a mental maturity with two digits in the 'year' column, so I'm willing to let bygones be bygones, at least as much as I can. Frankly, I'm sick of being the victim too, and like you said, it'll be nice to be a hero. But the thing is, I happen to have a better power for solving crimes than you _ever_ will, and frankly, the PRT bent over backwards to allow my stipulations should I be put on the team. Most of these stipulations involve you and my relationship to you."

"In other words, if you _ever_ try this little stunt again, I'll make a new stipulation that you are stripped of your position, kicked out of Brockton Bay, and shipped to your new home in, oh, Alaska inside a crate filled with angry rattlesnakes. Given certain information from Director Piggot, she'd happily catch each and every one of those snakes herself and force-feed them steroids to make them all nice, giant and pissed, assuming she isn't doing so already thanks to aforementioned ankle jewelry."

I leaned closer to Sophia's eyelevel, using my own death stare to bore straight through her skull.

"Have I made myself clear?"

"Crystal," she squeaked.

"Good." I went back to my normal stance. "You can freeze her now."

Dennis did so, causing a rather hilarious image as the rather terrified looking Sophia was stuck like that.

Slowly, I became aware of the entire room staring at me.

Oh God, this is the part where they realize I'm dangerous and lock me away again-

"That."

"Was."

"Awesome."

"And scary. But awesomely so."

…Oh right, they hated Sophia too. As it is, they just had a slow clap for me.

Suddenly, Dennis grinned. "Hey Taylor, can you record Glenn's face for me when you meet him?"

I looked as confused as I felt. "Who's Glenn?"

"The PR guy."

…Oh. I already sympathized.

* * *

**A/N: Before you ask-no, she didn't smell her own scent there, and yes, she does view well-meaning psychotherapy more warily than scare tactics. She has problems, even if they're smaller than in canon due to a combination of Yamada and lack of locker incident.**

** Was going to explore Taylor's power set here, but that can be overviewed with Glenn, since he's going to examine her tests to think of a good image for her.**


	5. Chapter 5 (Usurper)

**A/N: And now, the final chapter of this Arc! The pieces are set, let the dominoes fall!**

**…And possibly ruin Glenn's character too. Honestly I haven't actually reached his point in the narrative yet (I know, bad idea to make a fic of something you haven't finished yet), but I did read his part in his intro chapter. Working off of that, both because I don't want to spoil something for myself that much and because I am a fairly lethargic person and don't know how to write energy without being annoying.**

* * *

**Usurper 1.5**

* * *

Much to the surprise of absolutely no one, the first thing Glenn Chambers, head of Image, did upon seeing me was cry a little. Not literally, of course, but the expression absolute dread combined with the flavor of the lie contained in "Ms. Taylor, it's an…honor to work with you," I got the sense that he was dreading trying to find a good PR that didn't result in part of my efforts to stop crime involve "being used as a guest star in stories of less than comforting things that happened to bad little boys" even more than I was. After all, I could use fear at the very mention of my name, he could use a new job.

Of course, I didn't actually feel any particular degree of kinship. From the degree of his scent, I also got that he was bossy, somewhat manipulative, and basically what his job demanded of him. Still, he was honest, and for once (among the mundane, anyway) I didn't detect the instinctual fear most people felt upon seeing me that usually colored their polite-deceptions. I suppose working with Case 53s did that to you, there were people a lot more horrifying than me (I could thank my power at least for that). Or at least he had seen a picture of me beforehand and prepared himself, which was actually quite thoughtful. So I didn't dislike him either.

Of course, the Official PRT Protocol Stick was affixed firmly to him as well, in a somewhat different manner than Piggot.

"No. Just no. Just because I have breasts now does not mean I get a boob plate. No."

"I can't argue with market research, Taylor. Studies show that, if you'll forgive me for coming off as a little creepy here, showing a little cleavage makes a female heroine more approachable."

His slavish devotion to statistics.

"It's not you I'm worried about with the creepy, it's the legion of salivating perverts out there. I've seen the banned post section of Parahumans Online, and the 4chan cape board. I have no desire to ever see that ever again, much less imagine me on it."

"If you're a cape, you're on there anyway," he said, looking sympathetic.

"Touché," I admitted. "But boob armor just isn't viable. I've done my own research, and it actually makes it easier to hit vital bits and hurt yourself if you fall."

"That was out concern with Vista," he admitted. "Then we remembered we have several Tinkers specializing in physical materials and we were able to figure out a way around that. It's subtle, but hers deforms around blows to absorb and deflect impact, meaning it's actually better armor."

I tried to think of a direct retort for this, but unfortunately I was not fluent in Tinkerbabble, nor did I think Glenn was. I already hated Tinkers. "Which brings me to my next point, and the core reason: I'm not Vista. I don't have an age complex like she does, I'm fine being fifteen. To me, I feel…_exposed._"

He mulled this over for a minute. "…How about a backless costume? It's practical given your wings."

"Better, but no. These things are pretty hardy and can regenerate themselves pretty quickly, but Miss Militia wasn't eager to see if they were bulletproof or could regenerate from having the bones blown off. If you really need me to be sexy, shape will have to do. Fully armored shape."

"Okay, we can work with that. But...Taylor, can I talk about Miss Militia for a second? About you to be precise?"

And here comes the fallout. I took out my monarch pin. "Go on."

"She's…worried about you. You seem perfectly nice normally, but whenever Shadow Stalker is bought up, you go, frankly, ballistic, crying acid everywhere and getting your snakes to hiss at people until she goes away, then you act like nothing's happened."

I rubbed the pin a little harder while biting back desperately on my defensive instincts. I did _not_ need to piss off the PR guy. "I know. I've had a chip on my shoulder ever since my trigger, and I don't know why. I don't fly off the handle like that too often, but yeah it's a problem. I'm trying to let go of it."

"And that's a good thing too. I'll admit, I'm no school counselor, I'm the embodiment of peer pressure." I chuckled a little at that. "But the thing is, and I apologize in advance, is that you just don't have the power set to be hot-tempered in public."

Okay, that was a new objection. "Huh?"

"I mean yours are primarily defensive in nature." He took out a file, probably intended to show he was reading my file to make sure, but given the scent of manipulation, he probably memorized it already. "Those wings are just one part of it, even if the main part."

I nodded. It was only after the whole confrontation ended that I realized Sophia was still immaterial. It was a situational power, but damn if it wasn't useful. "You're talking about my ability to ignore heat."

"And your apparent ability to ignore any negative side effects of chemicals, which implies your biology shuts down poisons too." He turned to the testing page. "It says here you commented that when the Environmental Simulator was at full Sahara mode, you still felt, and I quote, 'like I'm on a beach', and that the only effects on your physical form when exposed to open flame was a slight ash smudge from where you had worn the body monitor, not including the melted plastic."

I rubbed the talon where that was. Honestly, getting that thing off was more painful than it actually melting. Poor Colin had a conniption when he realized his gadget's warning signal had only gone off because it wasn't functioning anymore. "And then there was the Super Coffee Incident. That was embarrassing."

* * *

**Two Days Prior:**

"Hey guys! What we gonna do today?"

Missy was less enthused than I was, on the basis it was seven in the morning, and she had just arrived. More than that, she was confused. "Taylor? Is that you?"

"Better than ever thanks can we go to the tests already?"

Now Carlos was confused. "Taylor, this is strength tests. You hate strength tests."

"I know I know I'm just bored and going a bit stir-crazy can we do something already?"

It should also be mentioned that I was literally flying around the room at this point, jumping from ledge to ledge as it became uncomfortable. I didn't notice, actually, on the basis it felt like my nerves wanted to escape my skin. I needed to _move, _which I accomplished using various aerial acrobatics, including somersaults.

Now Dennis was gawking. "Did the Merchants come when I wasn't looking? Should we be checking the water for speed?"

"Beats me I don't know I just drank my morning tea and an hour later it feels like my brain is electrified oh God give me something to do I'm going crazy over here-"

Suddenly, Dean Beam! I felt mercifully calm.

For five seconds, then I felt my head turn into a Tesla coil again. "Nope not working do you have a higher setting-"

"All right, hold everything!"

Colin came barging into the room holding a syringe. "I put my coffee in the break room while I was putting on my armor, someone drank it-"

All finger pointed at me, including my own (while doing a handstand, my Medusas helping with balance, on the Gatling Batter). Colin stopped and gaped.

"Sorry your coffee tasted like tea I'll make it up to you later-"

"Do you feel nauseous?"

I blinked, "Uh, no, just like there's a nuclear reactor in my skull if that thing detoxes that would be really nice-"

"Dizziness, hallucinations, fever, increased heartbeat?"

I checked my pulse. "Slightly on that last one, feels like I've been exercising nix on the others can I get the detox now-"

"Coffee is a bit of a misnomer. That's a specially concocted mixture of caffeine, heart drugs, and antidepressants I sip throughout the day to avoid sleeping as long as possible-"

"Well the punishment fits the crime I'm sorry can you please get rid of this-"

"I specifically added a slightly toxic chemical that gives it the bitterest taste imaginable so that I'm not tempted to take more than a sip."

That comment penetrated my caffeine-induced misery. "But it tasted like tea it doesn't sound like you to forget adding-"

"I'm wondering if we haven't already tested a new power." He looked at the syringe. "This isn't a detoxifying agent. It's a _heart attack treatment._"

It took me a second to get what he was saying.

At least I finally fell over.

* * *

**Present:**

"So yeah, ultimate liver, and thank any gods that exist for that, even if I was twitching for the rest of the day." I smiled apologetically. After relief and scientific curiosity had worn off, Colin realized that he was now missing coffee and was about to lose a lot of time to sleeping like a normal person. He was _not_ happy.

"Which also fits with your theme. About the only directly offensive power you have are those acid tears, and those only seem to break down inorganic substances."

"Good for trying to get past armor and walls, not much for actually hurting people." Actually discovering that it wasn't that I was immune to my own powers had been a relief. No need to worry about holding back to avoid giving people potentially fatal acid burns, and there was a lot of things you could do with the ability to precisely melt structures and armor, even though I suspected a lot of them would result in an angry Piggot pointing at the costs for property damage.

"And therein lies the image problem." Glenn sighed as he put down the file. "Your powers are nonlethal by nature, and it won't be long until people figure that out. Trying to act like a maniac when your very nature prevents you from carrying out those threats is…comedic. Not something you want in an interrogator, and the worst of both worlds since you're scary anyway."

I nodded. Far less damaging to induce the _fear_ of violence rather than actually resort to violence, both for moral reasons and because it resulted in less lawsuits.

"Way I see it, superheroes are generally divided into four categories, which I've based on ye old venerable 80s print comics. Don't laugh, the icons are very deeply ingrained in culture as silly as they seem today." He took at a well-worn set and placed them in the desk. "You have your Spider-Men, the person who's just like you only with powers. You, I'm sorry to say, don't have that option. Even if people come to like you for your personality, they're going to see your snakes first, and the vast majority probably doesn't want to have autonomous pets growing out their skulls." He took one, a comic with a parahuman in a red and blue costume covered in a black web pattern off. "You have your Supermen, the people we look up to and follow by example. More possible, and there's going to be elements of that the way I see it, especially for Case 53 and synthetic rights-you're neither, but you're, if you'll pardon the term, alien enough to be an icon of how human they really are. Unfortunately, I also happen to realize that your power influences you to be more aggressive, and you're one bad PR stunt away from losing that image utterly and being hated for it." A different red-and-blue parahuman was removed.

"This leaves Batman and Green Lantern," he said as he gestured to a man with a rather menacing black costume in a dramatic pose, and an uniformed parahuman focusing light through a ring. "Now, Batman here is the World's Greatest Detective, a brilliant planner not afraid to use intimidation to clean up his home city of Gotham. Part of it is that he isn't a parahuman, just an extremely well-trained man with a lot of resources (though I wouldn't be surprised if he qualified as a Thinker), but the other part is that, whatever else you may say about him, Batman Doesn't Kill." I could _hear_ the capital letters in that aside. Seemed Glenn was a bit of a fan in his youth. "While Superman can take any threat without preparation, Batman's shtick is that he plans for everything so that it comes around to the same difference. He's the intellectual hero, the person who has everything under control and, despite how frightening he is, you can take comfort that he has your best interests at heart."

"Now Green Lantern, he's more like Armsmaster-"

"A man with the superpower of saying the exact wrong thing at any given time?"

"Minus that aspect, thankfully. Back to my point, Green Lantern's an Air Force pilot who was put into an interstellar police corps. His theme is duty and utter fearlessness. Yes, he is an idiot because the writers couldn't figure out weaknesses of that ring of his that he could overcome in clever ways, but he's the gung-ho hero. The brave one who backs down in the face of nothing, and will stop at nothing to ensure the Earth is safe."

He slid both comics towards me. "So, here's my idea Taylor-do you want to be like Batman or Green Lantern? What kind of image do you want people to make of you, the ultimate warrior or the ultimate detective?"

I mulled it over in my head. "Well, for one you seem to favor Batman."

"Guilty as charged. Shame DC shut down after Hero showed up." He smiled sadly. "Would have been fun to see him deal with parahumans given what we know of…empowering events (white lie) and his own past. But I won't quibble-frankly you'd make a great Green Lantern too if you ask me. They looked for fearlessness."

Yeaaah no. I may have gotten out of a bad place, but I still prayed for those strange recurring ones of being Azrai, because while I got the sense he wasn't the kind of person I'd like to know, the others tended to be nightmarish memories of the Sphinx.

* * *

**October 11, 2010:**

The part of my mind that was still mine wondered if I hadn't completely gone insane. Well, that part of my mind that wasn't screaming at the other parts to stop gazing in adoration at the man-lion idling examining my school papers.

"Hm. For one on the cusp of adulthood, you are quite an intelligent one. You'll make a fine _khorseti alif_ and conversationalist after I tutor you for a bit. Perhaps in low magic as well."

"Thank you, _my king_." Good, I was still in control of my actions enough to be acerbic and angry about what he was doing to me. I prayed that I would remain that way, and his power didn't cause you to love him even as he used you.

Apparently he heard the venom in those two syllables. Rather than being annoyed, he laughed, a sound between a deep belly laugh and a growl. "And a feisty one too! Not too many can resist the power of my aura to any degree, you're in a quite prestigious group. Oh I will have such fun molding that will."

Molding. Like I was a bunch of unworked clay. Like I was a _pet_ to be trained. I wanted to scream at the Sphinx, wanted to hurt him. Unfortunately, I wasn't exactly in full command of my mind at the moment, so all I did was smile and thank him. Thank him! Honestly, I was glad I was pissed off, I was too angry to be scared.

"As for you…" he said as he turned to Emma. "You're not very-"

The screeching of an owl interrupted him. "Oh for the love of the gods."

He glanced in the direction of the sound and made a motion with his hand paw, almost outlining a shield, while muttering something under his breath. I could see a shimmering dust suddenly vanish.

Right on cue, the armored form I recognized as Dragon rounded the corner-and smacked into an invisible wall. She hit it a few times, before bringing out a saw and began cutting desperately.

"Even if you figure out some manner of breaking that, I have more than enough energy left to drive you as mad as your apprentices." The Sphinx smiled. "I would make sure they haven't managed to kill each other yet."

Dragon paid him no attention, only adjusted the saw to a start cutting a hallway wall in desperation.

"Back to my new servant-you're not the brightest, are you?"

"No, your excellency. I'm not the smartest girl in the classroom, just fairly average in that department."

"But your father is quite wealthy, yes?"

"Very."

"And he dearly loves you?"

A look of fear passed over her otherwise placid face as Emma realized what he was implying. "I hope. Haven't seen any reason why not."

And of course he's a kidnapper. Why wouldn't he be a kidnapper? He had made his appearance by unleashing all the big cats at a zoo for what appeared to be his own amusement and to see how the PRT responded, why wouldn't he kidnap someone and demand money?

"And quite powerful as well, too. Yes, your father will be a fine partner."

"He'll be so pleased to serve you, my lord!"

"Cheer! Excellent, my new hunting grounds could use a gardener too." The Sphinx smiled as he bent down to allow Emma on his back. Looking like it was the best thing in the world, she climbed upon his back and stroked his ears. He literally _purred_ at that.

I think that's what finally catalyzed me from merely hating the Sphinx to actively loathing him. The man-lion was more than just a bully, he was a power fetishist who reveled in his domination of other people, making his victims joyfully endure his sadism, and thank him for it.

And that smug smile on his face-he would keep doing it, keep forcing people to dance to his tune, keep making them _want_ to stroke his ego. Part of me wondered if he left part of my mind intact deliberately just so he could imagine me screaming at him from a prison in my own brain. Just because he could.

And just like that, my rage and fear suddenly…weren't. In fact, I felt clearer in the head than I ever had before.

Calmly, I recognized that the part of my mind currently leashed by him seemed to be rather suggestible. Hoping against hope, I told it that the master probably wanted a mane trim at some point. Thankfully, it was about as stupid as I gave credit for, allowing me to fish the scissors out of my pack.

"Now, as for you," he said, turning around. "I would put those down. Your will is commendable, but your body is not. You'll just hurt yourself."

The leashed-me tried to drop the scissors, but me-me had already guessed that he would say that. "I couldn't help but notice your mane is a bit on the wild side, great Sphinx. I was thinking that I could tame it a little."

His eyes widened for a bit, then he smirked. "Willful, intelligent, and helpful. I chose a prodigy, didn't I?" He looked at Dragon, who was still trying to get through the wall. "You may want to watch this," he said as he performed another gesture and Dragon…froze. In mid motion.

"Now, a little off the shoulder, if you don't mind."

Wow, this guy was an idiot. Ego did that to people I guessed. Still smiling, I took my scissors to the purring man-lion…

And with all of my will, opened them as wide as possible, given him a nasty cut on his neck.

"AGH!"

A paw instinctive swiped at me. It wasn't too bad a cut, but it felt like it tore away the lock on my mind that prevented most of me from taking action against him. Whipping into action, I rushed to a damaged locker, wielding my scissors like a knife.

"You…little…BRAT!"

The Sphinx, all civility gone from his face rushed at me, and I stabbed-

There was something warm running down my hand. Opening my eyes, I got a good look at the Sphinx.

From this close, I noticed how…not-leonine he looked. More like an older man in a really good lion suit. Yes, he had a tail, fur, and mane, but his paws were hands, his musculature was that of a human, and his face didn't have a split lip or anything one would associate with a cat.

That wasn't what drew my eye though. What drew my eye was the scissors embedded in the upper left of his chest.

I couldn't think. I couldn't speak. I couldn't even breathe.

* * *

**December 10:**

Yeah, looking back upon it, the only reason my mind could do anything other than wet itself was that the Sphinx reminded me of a worse version of Emma. I was too angry to care, especially after he started leering at her.

And now that I think about it, would Green Lantern's employers care? Actually now that I thought about it I wasn't that scared was I and Glenn was still waiting for an answer. Delay that revelation to next mandated therapy session.

Besides that little epiphany, I knew exactly what I wanted to be beforehand, and I still did. I wasn't that violent by nature anyway; the Sphinx's own recklessness in bullrushing at me, plus luck, doomed him and saved both me and Emma from death and/or horrifying slavery.

I picked up the Batman comic, careful not to damage it. "I won't have to call myself Snakewoman, will I?"

He chuckled. "Unless you have a better idea?"

"Actually, I do. I originally was searching for cape names with Clockblocker-"

A look of absolute dread came over Glenn's face. I could see him preparing to write a résumé already.

"And Vista."

Now relief.

"I wanted to name myself after the Furies, but then I noticed the existence of the Three Blasphemies. I did, however, find a link to another Greek goddess of divine vengeance; Nemesis."

He rose an eyebrow. "You cannot be serious-"

"I'm not. I noticed she had another name: Adrasteia."

Glenn went silent for a second, mulling it over as he proceeded to apparently conduct an invisible orchestra of wind instruments (specifically the dog whistle).

"…Not bad. Obscure enough so people won't instantly notice, and not something one associates with a supervillain. Light and airy on the tongue, but also carries your intimidation factor and your implacability to those who research it. Not what I would have chosen, but nobody seems to like mine."

I couldn't resist. "Correction-nobody likes the names your committee comes up with."

"Ha ha. Though actually, we could use that sense of humor…"

* * *

_Well, this was new._

_Rather than the Azrai dreams and subsequent power fantasy, or nightmares involving a man-lion, this…was also probably a nightmare._

_All around me, a black and blasted plain of dark, stony earth extended, broken up by various military fortifications, new and old, damaged and pristine. I got the sense this place was a site of frequent battles, to the point where this place was either being torn apart by war or preparing for the next engagement, never at peace._

_As I looked around I also noticed something…strange about this battlefield. First and most obviously, the sky was an angry red. That was the most alarming, particularly because as I stared at it in disbelief, I saw equally red-and-orange meteors streak across it, more like fireballs than space rocks, made even more noticeable by the fact they were apparently clear, only sunless. _

_After tearing my eyes from the sky, I examined the battlefield around me. Most of these things, I could see in a modern battlefield. Trenches, for one. Burned-out vehicles for another. Forgotten casings for bullets, too. Realizing another thing that appeared in modern battles, I took to the air. No death-by-landmines for me._

_Alighting on one of the vehicles, I noticed something else strange-all the trenches seemed to contain weapon racks. This wasn't so strange, except besides guns, I saw swords, maces, and pikes. Which made absolutely no sense, of course, unless this was a battlefield composed entirely of Brute parahumans._

_In fact, the more I looked, the more I saw little anachronisms. A discarded pistol next to a dagger. A piece of torn chain mail next to what looked like an exploded mine. And then there was the stuff I didn't know, like the weird, rune-covered platform inside of this tank I was perching in. The runes looked harsh, dark, and…oddly comforting. Like I knew who made them, and I trusted them._

_"The Abyss are you doing, soldier!?"_

_Surprised, I spun around. And tried not to scream._

_The…_creature _before me looked like something out of a depiction of the devil crossed with a dragon. A giant, humanoid lizard body was born aloft by great, surprisingly quiet bat wings (not unlike mine, what little of my mind that was not taken up with flashing my life before my eyes noted). A pair of horns rose majestically from its scalp, framing a twisted face with many, perfectly even sharp teeth drawn back in a snarl. A spiked chain was wrapped around its left arm, and its scaly onyx-black torso was covered in modern body armor. A patch with a picture of a snake biting its own tail while shedding its skin was tattooed on its right arm, with the same harsh-but-comforting lettering being written under it._

_"I asked you a question, soldier!"_

_Huh, the voice was female. And otherwise normal sounding, if harsh. Kind of like the Director._

_"…Uh, er, I'm not-"_

_"Nevermind! Get back to the regiment!"_

_"I don't-"_

_"I SAID-"_

_"I'M DREAMING, AREN'T I?"_

_The creature's face twisted in even more rage, as it…she inhaled, presumably to scream at me for being a deserter from some army. Then, a very loud beep._

_"Ergh, you're lucky, angel wannabe." She took out what looked like a perfectly normal walkie-talkie, resized for her, and turned it on. "Yes, Strategist…what? She isn't? Well then-ooohh. _She's _the psuedo-got it."_

_The creature put away the transceiver, and landed. An almost complete transformation in her demeanor occurred as she gave an award-winning (and sharp) smile as she held out a claw. "My apologies, Miss. I mistook you for…someone else (half-truth)."_

_Wordlessly, I shook said claw, too shocked to do anything other than follow directions._

_"We've been waiting for you. Frankly, it was starting to get boring waiting for your astral self to show up, so thank you. I'm not at liberty to exposit much more, but the gist is welcome to your home away from home…plane."_

_"A-astral? Home plane? Guh?" Since when were my nightmares trying to welcome me? …Since when was I a lucid dreamer?_

_"Ah, Clueless. Never change." She laughed-a genuine laugh, not a cruel laugh-before turning serious again. "Here. The razorvine told me you use some kind of moth pin to-"_

_"It's a butterfly," I said numbly._

_"Butterfly, my mistake, to help you focus. When you desperately need some backup, please imagine you rubbing that, it'll make your help request high-priority."_

_I looked at my hand. A grey…medal?...covered in the same runic script, with the picture of a handsome man with horns on it._

_"Archduke Dispater awaits your response. And your body should be waking up in three…two…"_

"Gah!"

Contrary to the movies, you did not catapult upwards in bed when agitated when you woke up. You just felt really tense and confined for a second as your body struggled against the paralysis of sleep before your body realized you were having a dream.

...And that was a dream's dream, one that only grew more vivid as I thought about it.

What was _that?_

Where was I? Who was that monster and why did she suddenly turn genuinely nice (I could detect the scent of manipulation, but it tasted like Yamada's well-meaning)? Why did some "Archduke" keep an ear out for what was presumably my using the "medal"? What did she mean by "Your home away from home plane?"

More than that, now that I mulled it over, why did some deep part of me take her at face value?

* * *

**A/N: Did you guess at what rather famous AD&D critter I was drawing parallels to with her immunities before I name-dropped Dispater? If you don't know what they are (and don't feel like bothering to search for him), well, stay tuned.**

**Also, did I screw up a little with the Sphinx, was that particularly OOC for Taylor? I wanted to show she's less damaged and less underconfident than after the Locker of Filth, so…I did.**

**Also, next up is the Arc Interlude, and after that (if you're on Spacebattles), I shall fail at making an index!**


	6. Chapter 6 (Interlude 1)

**A/N: Gentlemen, behold!**

**The first time I write a focus character other than Taylor! And infinitely nicer than in canon! I am running out of ways to joke about my inevitable failure, and should really stop being so pessimistic!**

* * *

**Interlude 1: Shadow Stalker**

* * *

Hate.

Sophia Hess, also known as Shadow Stalker, understood the emotion of hate very well. Hate, along with its siblings of bitterness, envy, and anger, were her constant companions, and had been for a while. Hate for the rabid predators that rotted her city from the inside, hate for the prey who followed those same predators blindly, hate for the Wards, too blind to see the real dynamics of the world, hate for Taylor, who dared to pretend to be prey when she was obviously one of the most vicious and fearsome predators there was, hate for the father that had abandoned her and mom, hate for-

She shut down that line of reasoning very quickly. Following that particular path of hate usually led to hate for Sophia Hess, and then she'd remember what she was like before she awakened her real self. That never ended well.

Of course, Sophia had to stretch her imagination to figure out how she could feel worse right now, but frankly at this point being reminded of the girl scared of her own shadow would probably push her already shaky sanity over the edge into permanent uselessness. Learning to compartmentalized like that was a survival skill.

Of course, sometimes it helped to have something as a crutch. Which is why she was currently fighting off a migraine and avoid the lights getting in her eyes.

"Honestly, Stalker, you can't keep on coming to me like this," muttered the ex-Dr. Sheldon Bixby. "Sooner or later, you're going to have to go to a real hospital instead of trying to treat injuries with fistfights. Or lose your mask in one."

"I'm _fine,_" she said, almost believing it herself. "None of them even got close, E88's currently sleeping off a bender and tranq bolt in front of the police station."

"Doesn't excuse underage drinking, and possibly getting into a bar fight where you instinctively dematerialize."

"Point. So I drink at home."

Bixby said nothing, only rose an eyebrow and pointed at the tool shed in the back of the Barnes' yard.

"In the rent home," she corrected.

"So, you're fine being a homeless derelict mooching off the rich? Wow-shutting up now," he quickly said as he realized the first part of that joke was probably not what Sophia needed to hear now, if not the least because of her reaching for a crossbow. Instead, he dabbed more antiseptics on her arm.

In all truth, she only chose Bixby as her Secret Personal Paramedic because she needed to talk to someone whose life had also been ruined by Taylor. Emma, unsurprisingly, was unwilling to listen to her rant about the girl who had save her from horrifying imprisonment, and Madison suddenly grew a conscience when she realized just what was happening to the victim of her "jokes." Thus, ex-Dr. Bixby.

She was disappointed. As it seemed, the idiotic pharmacist seemed to think _he_ was at fault for what happened to him. What, he was a bit of a jerk who nevertheless cared enough about his friends to cover up for their lack of a prescription, that wasn't a crime.

(Actually yes it was, but Sophia never really saw the harm in stealing when it didn't harm anyone. There was more pain drugs in the world, and contrary to popular belief, she wasn't a sociopath-a soldier who was forced to retire due to an injury was worthy of the benefit of the doubt when treating his pain. The other not so much, but drug addicts were the prey among prey anyway, so she didn't see the paradox).

As it was, his father shared Sophia's opinion that his competence as a doctor outweighed his indiscretions and was attempting to get his license back. Said father was also a believer in economic independence to an extreme degree, so Bixby had to take up back alley first aid work, which was how Sophia met him, whilst suffering from being shocked in shadow form via fence plus carelessness.

To his credit, he would allow her to wear a ski mask while treating her, though part of Sophia's mind idly wondered how long it was until she got an injury on her face that he had to remove it entirely to get to.

"…Speaking of the shed, why are you in there? I thought the PRT building had apartments."

"It does. I don't use them."

"…Why-"

"I. Don't. Use. Them."

And that line of questioning ceased.

The next few minutes in the back of Bixby's truck passed in silence. Eventually, Sophia finally asked the question she had mulled over for two weeks. "How do you manage this?"

"Manage…what?"

"Fucking up, I mean. How do you function while knowing you fucked up?"

He stopped mid-bandaging. "You're telling me you're sorry about Ta-"

"Not _her_. The Sphinx."

"…I still don't-"

"I mean I failed against the Sphinx! I completely failed!" She was shouting now. She would have risen, except the pain had other ideas. "And then I failed at trying to get the actual winner on my side!"

"You're still upset about that? It happened months ago-"

"I _know_," she said, gripping the back guard tightly. "I _know_ it happened months ago, I _know_ it wasn't my fault, so why am I revisiting it now!?"

"Shouldn't you be talking about this with your actual therapist-"

"No. Why should I? I'm not a wimp, I don't need coddling from people whose job it is to coddle the wimps."

"Uh-huh," said Bixby, utterly unconvinced. "So you're just going to happily go schizophrenic and wallow in your own filth-"

"_Shut up._"

"Right, sorry."

"I just…what is wrong with me? I'm the goddamn Shadow Stalker, I don't get sad like this. I punch and/or shoot the problem until it goes away."

"Maybe because this is a problem you can't do either to?"

"No shit? Wow, I _never_ thought of that, dumbass."

She paused and mulled it over for a second.

"And…" She sighed. "I think Em-er, my friend forgives me more than I do."

* * *

**October 11:**

_Couldn't get out, couldn't get out, __couldn't get out…_

And as suddenly as they appeared, the visions stopped. Shadow Stalker blinked to rid herself of the fractal Sphinxes dancing around her vision, and realized that….

Oh.

"Sorry."

"No problem," Gallant squeaked in pain from the arrow in a rather sensitive spot, then gingerly held out a hand for the antidote.

Not missing a beat, she tossed him the anti-sedative and silently prayed Clockblocker didn't notice, before rushing off.

_Okay, freak, very funny. We'll see how funny you find it with one of my special arrows…up your…_

_…Tail?_

The closest thing to her was Dragon, apparently struggling against invisible bonds as her concrete saw spun in the air. The next was the bleeding, probably dead Sphinx, with the unconscious form of Taylor Hebert lying on top of it, with what looked like an indoor storm crackling in the air above her.

That wasn't what alarmed her though.

No, that was the screaming of Emma Barnes, currently flattened against a wall with an animal fear in her eyes.

Sophia immediately rushed to her friend, only to run into some kind of invisible wall. She went immaterial, and when that still didn't seem to work, she phased around through the hallway.

"Emma! Emma I'm here!"

Instinctively the terrified schoolgirl threw a punch at her savior, then realized who it was when she failed to connect. Sophia immediately rematerialized and locked her in a tight embrace.

"It's okay. He's gone. He's gone." The mantra was just as much for herself as it was for Emma.

The hug was returned, except this was really more of a pincer grab for dear life. The wetness of tears dripped through what breaks in the costume there was. "Oh God…Oh God…Sophie…Oh God…he-"

"You're strong, Emma, remember? You're gonna be fine, he's just another ABB-"

"No, n-nuh-no, worse. He…Oh God, Sophie, he-he did s-something to m-my brain…h-he m-made me _want_ to g-g-go with him…I-I w-w-was g-g-going to sell out m-m-my Dad, and, and I was _so happy…_Oh God." Then the crying began again.

"Hey, but you got him, didn't you?"

"No…nuh-not me…" She pointed at the unconscious girl. "S-she t-t-tricked him somehow…cut him…s-s-stabbed…" She couldn't continue.

Two things ran through Sophia's mind.

One, that was actually really impressive. Maybe Emma was right after all.

Two…

Did she just _lose to Taylor? _Seriously? Oh, come on. She let began to let go of Emma to get a closer look and confirm-

Another shudder went through Emma's body before a string of incoherent syllables, gripping tighter.

A pit opened in the bottom of Sophia's stomach as she realized what she was prioritizing over a traumatized friend.

Even as she hugged the shuddering Emma closer, all Sophia could think about was how she put her own pride over a person who needed her more than anything right now.

* * *

**December 12:**

"You didn't tell me yet."

"Huh?"

"What you did afterwards."

Sophia opened and closed her mouth behind the ski mask, then looked away. "I…tried to get Taylor and my friend back together. I felt that…look, I'm the cape here, but she was the leader of our little gang, and that if she tried to approach Taylor herself, she'd get punched in the face. So, I and the _idiot," _she said, emphasizing her opinion of Madison after that fiasco, "tried to chat her up after lunch, mend some bridges. Of course, thing about the idiot? She's really kind of dim when it comes to other people's feelings, she's the kind of person who'd happily throw a person in a bunch of, I don't know, used tampons and think it was all in good fun."

"So what does she do? _Start_ by calling her a murderess. I tried to remedy the situation after she got Madison to back off, but then those freaky snakes of hers acted up and learned about my...family problems." She looked down at that. "By the time I snapped back to reality, she's off in the woods freaking out and I can't try again on the basis that the PRT and her dad came to take her away."

She looked out at Emma's place. "Then things got worse. First, my friend and the idiot start thinking we're responsible for what happened and run away from me. I then learn she's bound to become a Ward when she gets out, and _I _start losing it because I'm worried she'll dredge up my past again. Then…"

She pointed at the anklet.

"The events that led to this."

It was times like this that Sophia remembered a mantra she used to say to herself, and recently came back in fashion.

Big girls don't cry.

* * *

**November 28:**

Truth was, Sophia didn't see the point in keeping her identity away from her family. Yeah, she was an angry young woman, and a violent one at that, but that was no reason to avoid admitting "yeah I lost my cool and nearly killed a guy, I'm training so it won't happen again." She would not _mourn _anybody she killed, but she never actually killed anyone (despite what she told Emma), and that "incident" was the result of her not knowing that you still bled when pinned to a wall like that. Hanlon's Razor.

And, contrary to what she claimed, her mother knew. Her mother was the one she confided when she first became the shadow, in fact, and it was only for legal reasons that she pretended otherwise.

That was a mistake then, and it was a mistake now. Not that this occurred to her at this point.

She tried to work her mouth for a second. "W-W-What?"

Her mother pointed at the door again. "You heard me. Go. Leave. I've been way too permissive of your behavior for way too long. They have rooms at the PRT building, and I heard that they're keeping a closer eye on you anyway. If you're so independent, try it for a night or two. Who knows, since you're so goddamn _strong _you may even like it."

"I…huh…why?" Her lower lip began to quiver. "But-"

"But _what?_ I talked to Ms. Piggot, you seem to have gotten the idea that bullying is the way of the world. So unless you start apologizing, to me, and to Taylor, _right now_, consider this a different perspective on the matter."

"I….I…" Part of her, the part of her that was still her before her trigger, wanted to take up that offer, to run to her Mom and beg forgiveness.

Characteristically, the way Sophia actually reacted was anger.

"…Fine! I don't need you! I don't need the Wards, I don't need _anyone!_ Good-fucking-bye!"

And with that, she dematerialized, going straight through the wall behind her, pausing only to gather her cloak, crossbow, and mask. Then she ran, far away as she could, stopping under a bridge.

Rematerialized, a fuming Sophia rested against the overhang, checking her crossbow-an easy task, one she used when trying to think about something.

When the "clean crossbow" rite didn't work, she decided to test the bow on her home cellphone.

Her Mom said it, not her. She was the strongest Ward. She didn't need them, she was only on there because of a stupid. She didn't _need _anyone. Not her mother. Not her loser teammates. Not even…not even….

…Big girls don't cry, big girls don't cry, big g-girls…d-don't….

Oh fuck it. Eyes stinging, she dialed up the person she stopped herself from discounting.

"Um, Emma, it's me. Sophia. Can I crash at your place a bit? Please?"

That last word was a calculated gambit. Sophia Hess did not ask nicely for things. Not unless she really needed them.

* * *

"And then of course, the bitch asks to see me! Just to rub it in!"

"Mm-hm."

"I mean, who does that!? I told her I got kicked out of my house, and she tells me she has worse problems! Her goddamn _dad_ is living with her, on base!"

"And then?"

"Why do you think I'm not allowed to go solo at all anymore? I tried to get her, hurt my fist on that wing of hers. Then I discovered she's gone scary as Hell itself, and then it turns out that, in what, five minutes, she's got Deeenn….Clockblocker on her side, and when I wake up, it's to a glowering Pig. Then, when I somehow go back on the Wards, they've all taken her side! Great team loyalty, guys! Please take the psychotic newbie over your faithful, hypercompetent ghost archer, it's not like I'm _homeless_ or anything-"

"Have you tried going back?"

The rant came to a sudden stop. "Eh?"

"From the sound of it, you took a maternal warning seriously, and then stewed in self-punishment and misery for two weeks."

Sophia rose a finger to respond…then realized that her mom didn't know her Wards cell number.

"Come to think of it, why are you sleeping in that shed? Alan isn't heartless, he'd let you stay in the house, so long as you got new clothes."

Sophia…did not have an answer to that. "I…like the small spaces?"

"Have you eaten breakfast with Emma? Tried to talk to her? Basically acted like an actual lodger instead of a hermit who happens to live on the manor of the house of Barnes? Hells, why are you using _me _as a doctor, when it's costly and probably illegal?"

"I…"

….

…Dear God, what the hell was _wrong_ with her!? Sophia cradled her head. After that stunt, she'd be surprised if her Mom wanted her daughter back given how her frequent head injuries seemed to have killed most of her brain cells. Hell, she'd be wouldn't be surprised if she up and died right there. Here Lies Sophia Hess, Died of Forgetting to Breathe.

Not hearing an answer, Bixby pressed on. "Listen, I'm not a psychologist, though I know them. From the sound of it, though, you seem to think you're the ultimate lone wolf. Which is a rather stupid concept, as wolves are pack hunters. You also seem to remind me of this fantasy story I once read."

Okay, now she was caught too off-guard to feel embarrassed. She looked at him quizzically.

"Yeah, you probably feel the urge to take my lunch money now. Point is, one of the gods in that story? He's the big bad evil guy, the guy responsible for all ills in the world. Truth is, he always came off as the morally superior one, because unlike the other gods he didn't just dust off his creation, say 'good enough' and pretend there wasn't any flaws in it, to resist the fact that things change because that's the nature of time. But I digress. Point is, he's dead, and yet he's still a major character, still the driving force of every subplot in it. Want to know why?"

Sophia smirked. "Until your little fanwank is done, I don't think you'll let me."

"Fan…? Nevermind. Point is, the reason he was so effective even death didn't stop him?"

He looked directly into Sophia's eyes for this.

"He trusted other people. He trusted that he wasn't the only one who could complete his vision, he trusted that his friends and servants wouldn't fail him-basically, he realized that the path of the loner is not the path of the strong-it's the path the real wolves, the pack ones, like to patrol for easy prey. You're not protecting yourself by driving everyone away. You're marinating yourself in steak sauce."

Sophia wanted to laugh at that (_the power of friendship makes me a better hunter? Come on_), but she stopped herself and mulled it over.

And mulled.

And mulled.

And mulled until she realized something else: Exactly what had she used as a crutch during these last two weeks? More importantly, who had used _her_ as a crutch the month before?

Slowly, she began to giggle, and then laugh. Seems those stupid, saccharine shows had a point to it after all.

But now…her family. Hoo boy.

"Well, thanks for the advice doc…but I think I have to face the music now. It's death metal in the key of scolding. Thanks for restarting my brain, Hermit Doc."

"No problem…and where did you get that nickname, anyway?"

"Because you work out of a truck, and your name is _Shel_don, get it?"

It took him a second, then he laughed. "I'll keep that in mind."

* * *

As Sophia made her way up to Barnes' house to bid adieu and, presumably, make a rather apologetic call to her mother, Dr. Bixby leaned back in his truck bed. "Hermit Doc…actually rather clever. Must be Madison's influence."

Then his mildly amused expression became one of confusion. What was that vibration-

Oh yes. This thing. Taking out a slender black cell phone, Bixby opened his texts.

___Crochet_Countess: B-man's got order 4 us. Would be nice if i knew what Grease looked lke._

A second, then;

_Crochet_Countess: Greece, sry. _

_TFTD: Would not bee the foist of us too suffer automobile correct. __(Would not be the first of us to suffer autocorrect)_

_TFTD: Four example. __(For example)_

Bixby smirked. These fellows were what kept him sane these past few years. And practiced for the other incoherent by biology beings he encountered then and again in his journeys.

_D_Phil: I take it we should not have consulted a mundane firm for your visor repairs, eh Garril?_

_TFTD: And won with know since of scaled, it seams. These tingles make my ayes shrink. (__And one with no sense of scale, it seems. These things make my eyes shrink.)_

_Israfil: We feel your anguish, one of the seas. We almost had to consult the one called Leet for a screen that would not yield under our royal nails._

_Crochet_Countess: Khaba, spoilers! Serisly!_

_D_Phil: Don't be too alarmed, Jeru. The Righteous is occupied with the Foolish Knights._

_Crochet_Countess: Yer still usin code words, Mag._

_D_Phil: Just because I know she is not does not mean I am in not the habit of not being paranoid. Especially with the Light above us._

_Crochet_Countess: Gd point. So, how goes the mission? _

_D_Phil: Very, very well. It helps the shadewalker seems to have broken free of the False Dark. She now recognizes that she is no stronger in solitude than she is as a person._

_Israfil: And of course, your Arts of thought had nothing whatsoever to do with this epiphany?_

_D_Phil: Suggestion alone could result in the revolution of mental health in the Mandate once this Province's psychiatry is released to the Palaces._

_TFTD: And its Emmy grants will insure tears a Giants the manned for it. __(And its emigrants will ensure there's a giant demand for it)._

_Crochet_Countess: Boy, id sure like this provinces Emmy grants. : - p_

_Israfil: You shall have to pry them from our chilled, stilled talons, one of songs._

_D_Phil: All right pupils, you are embarrassing Grandfather. Speaking of which, I told his story too. Seemed to resonate with her after another dose. _

_Crochet_Countess: Uh, you said u were the paranoid 1?_

_D_Phil: …This is the shadewalker we are speaking of. I would be surprised if she even remembered I exposited on "nerd things" next week, much less the content._

_Crochet_Countess: Rgt, stupid question.. Spekin of capes, how goes lil' sis byond my product orders?_

_Israfil: Quite splendidly, actually. We have noted a silver cord extended to the Palace of the Wardens through the Sacral. _

_TFTD: Tank Gramps. I'm Biggs and tough, butt I am knot so stooped id to think I am cape able of toking on the Tide. __(Thank Gramps. I'm big and tough, but I am not so stupid to think I am capable of taking on the Tide.)_

_TFTD: Id is a Ward? __(Id is a word?)_

_Israfil: Actually, he is indeed, but he dwells in the city of San…please hold a minute._

_D_Phil: I will lend you some books on this wonderful sage named Freud. Good for a laugh if you're not easily offended._

_D_Phil: In any case, we return to our work, and await the reveal of the Magician._

_Crochet_Countess: Hope she likes my part! …Serisly, what does B-man mean by "Greece?"_

_Israfil: It is called an Internet search, one of songs. While you are there, you can remind us of why you were the infiltrator besides your lack of obvious Sacraments._

_TFTD: And wall there, get sum butter eye censors! Waterproof ones! __(And while there, get some better eye sensors! Waterproof ones!)_

Dr. Bixby rolled his eyes. Family, eh? Couldn't live with them…

When he was sure no one else was observing him, the pharmacologist entered his truck, and after a quick check, removed his _ring of disguise._

The cloaked man was almost completely hidden by the shadows of his cloak, apart from hands that seemed almost too old to be alive-and only almost because they were attached to a seemingly living person. He silently thanked the real Dr. Bixby for providing a cover, before willing the ring to forget that face.

The Magian proceeded to alter the runic diagrams on his dashboard, and vanished into the Shadow World. Sadly, one of the downsides to being quite foreign to this little world was a lack of driving ability, and at least the Otherworld had no cars.

* * *

**A/N: Before you ask, no they don't always type like that. Crochet_Countess is trying to text quickly so she can get back to work, TFTD has a problem with his eye sensors when typing things out using them, and Israfil…actually does talk like that normally. She's a bit vain.**

**Also, I get sick of councils of villains just being mysterrrious and creepy, so I made them normal people trying to avoid the gaze of [IF YOU HAVEN'T GUESSED WHO THIS IS, YOU DESERVE THIS REDACTED] and having a hard time breaking out of it.**

**As for Sophia, I get the sense she was a perpetual victim who went power mad after triggering, a more subtle, controlled form of going Carrie White. She has good qualities (her genuine friendship with Emma, her sense of moral duty that drives her to at least try to be a hero), but most of them have been largely suppressed. I'm showing them slowly, ever so slowly, show themselves again now that the high has finally warn off and she realizes they won't protect her from pain.**

**And yes, Taylor did not detect that lie two chapters ago. Sophia believed it herself, after all.**


	7. Chapter 7 (Alecto)

**Mother of Vengeance Arc 2: Alecto**

**A/N: Been a bit, hasn't it? Well, school is sane now, so don't expect this to be as quick as before.**

**Also, I'm going to nip this in the bud now-a skort is a real thing, it's a pair of shorts with a skirt sewn over it (or a woman's culotte, technically, though I doubt Taylor cares). Glenn's a cynic, not a creep.**

* * *

**Alecto 2.1**

* * *

I tried to put the dream out of mind. Easier said than done; like my recurring dreams, the one about the mood-swinging army monster only seemed to grow vivid the more time I gave it. Actually no, it was vivid enough to the point it felt like I was recounting an actual trip I took to a surreal battlefield and accidentally pissed off a scaly drill sergeant until her boss cleared things up. In fact, I remembered only feeling scared when I saw her growling at me, I just felt lost (as in, "crap I should have paid attention to that aisle number in the supermarket" lost not "oh God where in Hell am I" lost).

Even more oddly, try as I might, I couldn't quite think of her as looking "demonic", like it was a contradiction in terms despite looking kind of like the Devil. Demon-ish, certainly, but demon? Something about that world being used as a full description unsettled me on a deep level. Dream logic, I supposed.

Of course, what Dr. Yamada taught me to do was open up a little to my shrink. This guy wasn't her (thanks to a rather idiotic policy, she wouldn't be coming by officially for a month, and I didn't feel like I had enough trust to push my luck and saunter through the giant loophole that left open), so I told him about it and to refer it to her.

Sadly, the interview ended before it got anywhere (who was the idiot designed that policy?), but he said something about symbolizing my nervousness with joining the Wards and my mixed feelings towards Director Piggot. That seemed as good an idea as any, so I internally went with that (ignoring the part of my mind that went _but you hate Piggot, why was the monster lady so nice after she calmed down?_).

For the moment, I did. I was too busy inspecting my costume to think about it.

Seems Glenn had taken the Greek idea to heart-I looked like an actual Erinyes now, if women were allowed to wear armor in Sparta and one of their painters made a picture of one. Much to my initial dismay, it also seemed he was determined to put in fanservice somehow-the design was a bit _too_ form shaped, especially around my waist (even after my mutations, I still didn't have _that_ great a figure). At least the thing I realized just after I left, revealed leg just above the part where they were still vulnerable skin rather than Brute bird scale remained an unrealized fear-while I still had a battle skirt (or rather, a battle skort), it was tastefully long (and armored) enough to show no naked skin. No arm or leg guards beyond cosmetic cloth wrapping though, but I could forgive that-it would just be redundant given my talons.

As for the armor itself, most of it was the color of bronze painted black, though one touch told me it was something else. Something heavier, though nothing I couldn't adapt to. The torso came in three pieces, the front went on first followed by shoulders with slots for the wings to fit in, then the back with the proper holes. I made a note to practice getting that one on in a crisis. The skort was something I put on over it, and surprisingly tough too-must have been more Tinker tech. Taking a look at it in the mirror, I realized the silver and bronze embroidery was actually a pair of serpents meeting in front of my chest, giving the overall effect of my wings actually being a cape when at rest.

What I found most interesting was the helmet. It looked like a classic Corinthian (Spartan style, the fully covering ones with a noseguard that made sure that everything except the eyes were covered), same overall design as the armor, with the snake heads here being over my cheeks while framing my face. I could also flip open the cheek plates to show my face and breathe, a perk of modern manufacturing I'd bet many a hoplite would kill to have.

That wasn't the interesting bit. The interesting bit was a series of four slots, arranged in a pattern in the back of my helmet. After I put it on, I quickly realized why-they could be both exited by the Medusas, causing them to hang in such a way that they looked like braids when at rest, or be _sealed _by them if they slithered back in, the pressure of the coiled snake hairs causing them to slam shut. Airtight shut, which shut them up due to lack of scent. How I didn't know, but it was an extremely insightful innovation. Had to thank someone for that. After thinking about the Sphinx for a second, I made another discovery-this metal was resistant to my acid. Excellent, I could just open the face and dip my fingers in if I needed to break something inorganic.

I took a look over myself. Huh, I looked pretty badass-slightly like a supervillain, especially given how the spear they gave me looked pretty real (which it was, but the blade wasn't sharp, that was a taser and delivery system for various nonlethal poisons, the real pointy thing was spring-loaded inside the "blade", all components of which were unleashed by squeezing the right part of the spear). I guessed that intimidating, intellectual heroines had a pass to get the really cool costumes.

"Taylor? You done in there?"

And I had been checking myself out in a mirror for the past five minutes. I caught the embarrassing whiff of my vanity as I opened the door for Missy.

Her expression, although slightly hidden by her mask, became one of surprise, then one of mock horror. "Who are you and what have you done with the bespectacled girl who was in here?"

I smirked despite myself, and opened my helmet. "Missy…help. The metal…._lives…_"

"Have no fear citizen, no tin can is capable of resisting-wait you're in there. Crap." She laughed, then was cut off after she looked at my face. "You're still wearing glasses under there? Isn't that a bit uncomfortable?"

"Yes, but not nearly as much as contacts." I took them off. "I can still see fine enough without them. Also, can you tell me how you did that teleportation trick, Carlos? I could have sworn I was talking to Missy a second ago."

At this point, my teammate had long since buckled in to the idea of there being two amateur comedians in her life, so she just sighed. "Just be serious for once and your life during your reveal speech? We have enough similarities to Dennis already."

My mood immediately soured. Oh God, I was going to _speak_. In _public. _On _television._

I drew the monarch from its hidden cavity and rubbed rapidly.

* * *

I decided to defer to Glenn's script in this case. He was the more experienced here, and while he was a bit too driven by studies that really did not improve my image of humanity, he was the extrovert who managed to be likable despite his excesses, so I simply memorized the script, no matter how creepy I was going to seem.

"And now, please allow me to introduce the hero of Winslow…"

The spokesman's eyes widened in mock disbelief as he saw I was not in my "official" spot, waiting to be introduced. I was, however, in my actual designated spot for my intro.

Internally rolling my eyes at the hammy nature of what I was about to say, I leaned into the mike attached to my interiors' helmet for volume.

**"I work at my own pace, Mr. Michaels," **I said in the most serious voice I could muster. **"I'm quite capable of introducing myself."**

"Oh, um-yes." Michaels waited the confused mutterings of the crowd to die down before my cue, doing his best to look a little nervous at the "sudden" sound of my voice. "I-It appears she wishes to introduce herself. Ahem." He sidestepped away.

**"Citizens of Brockton Bay. Please direct your attention to the top of the building at seven o' clock."**

They did so, and gasped.

After dramatically brooding for a few seconds, wings wrapped around me like a cloak, I spread them out to full stretch, revealing my spear as I did, before taking off to dive off my ledge, and then do a flyover.

I almost screwed up as the bevy of camera flashes caught me flying overhead, but thankfully I had been trained for that. It took me days to get that stunt _just right_, and even then there was a cushion under the ledge.

I landed, crouched, directly behind the podium, back facing the audience, both for the dramatic effect of me turning around after I relaxed my wings, and the much-needed thumbs up from my Dad and Armsmaster out of view of the public.

I strode up to the podium with a complete(ly faked) confidence, opened my helmet to reveal the cold glare of a soldier, and leaned forward into the proper mike. "Greetings, noble citizens. I…am Adrasteia." As I said that, I did a small bow, apparently showing an archaic formality for my mythic image.

I let that hang for a bit to settle in before continuing. "Once, I was Taylor Hebert, the slayer of a monster in all senses of the term. I remember her quite well, her iron will, her intellect in turning the Sphinx's own strength against him. But that _beast,_" I emphasized the word with a snarl of disgust, "took one last victim with him, with a curse that twisted her over the course of an agonizing week into a creature just as alien in form as he. No, Taylor Hebert is dead, lost to the dying throes of the Sphinx. I was born from her pyre."

I didn't mention the fact that that was probably true of most trigger events, given how traumatic they were.

"It...hurt, at first," I admitted, allowing a brief flicker of pain and thus, humanity to dance over my face. "As Taylor died and I was reborn, I screamed. I cried. I hurt in every possible way, as my body changed into something terrible and wonderful. But as the pain died, and my mind swam into consciousness, I realized the gift I had been given. I learned that these little things," I said as I ran my hand down a Medusa "could detect the smell of crime, of monsters who still looked human. My limbs had hardened into near invulnerability, my body had learned to ignore the heat of even molten magma and the most toxic of poisons. And of course," I stretched my wings to finish that statement.

"Of course, most did not see that. Most only saw the face of a mythological monster, and ascribed the mutation of the body to that of the mind." The flicker of pain that showed this time was genuine. I was kept out of sight by my dad for that first week, and the staff at the hospital trained themselves to avoid the knee-jerk reaction, but I remembered the fear on my classmates' faces as they saw the Medusa for the first time, their flinching back from me as I was rushed home in a PRT van. "And yes, I was angry at them for running away. But my father, Daniel," I gestured behind me, "was there for me, and as the fear and confusion ebbed, I realized what I did not smell among the majority of humans; I did not smell the casual cruelty of the Sphinx. I did not smell the quiet loathing of the world so many cynics, in their fear of changing the world for the better, ascribe to all humans and so claim it is conveniently impossible. I did not smell the selfish fear of pure cowardice when I showed myself, only fear for their families and friends. I saw the true nature of humans in their inner darkness, and there is nobility even there."

"So, I decided that I did not hold the fear of others against me. If I am fated to be separated from normal humans, a monster at the edge of the firelight, then let me be a guardian monster from the things that chose that darkness. Let me be the wrathful spirit that hunts murderers, the black hound that guards the souls of the dead from demons, the urban legend that criminals know, in their heart of hearts, only comes for them. A being who avenges the weak against the strong."

"Hence, Adrasteia the Inescapable. For I know what you did, and nothing in this or any other world will stop me coming for you."

I took off before anyone could ask any questions and people realized Adrasteia was actually kind of bad at public speaking.

* * *

"Nice work!" Glenn was happy with my performance, which I took to mean that I actually did a good job rather than the innumerable flaws I saw with it. "I think several crooks are turning themselves in right now (white lie)!"

"Eh, don't flatter yourself. You're the guy who did the whole 'swoop in from the nearby building and give the spectators a view of you in flight' thing. I just followed the script."

"In any case, good work. You've acclimated the world to expect you to be a little inhuman," he said, not noticing my wings grow tense at that, "but also that you emphasize with normal people and, since you could rely on one at a time of need, that compassion is the way to treat an emerging parahuman. I won't lie and say you've made a big dent yet, but assuming you're any good at your new job, you will."

I smiled. "Thanks Glenn."

"No problem. Now, I have to be going, there's a new Case 53 in Florida, and they're always rather difficult to get good PR for. The Case 53, I mean, though Florida also has a bit of an image problem. See you someday." With that, Glenn tipped an invisible bowler hat, and made his way to a waiting taxi. Which struck me as incredibly lacking ostentation for Glenn, but I supposed limos were a bit of a target for parahuman thugs looking for an easy, rich target.

Next was Colin…being Colin. "You performed to more than adequate measures. I suppose congratulations are in order." This was all said in a monotone that I assumed he thought was praise, given the lack of a scent. Again, robot wolves. "Any criticism?" I asked.

"You could be less of a brooding grandstander. And yes, I am aware of the hypocrisy of that sentiment, thank you." And then he left. Of course. I wondered if my "disarming humor" put me in the same category as Dennis. In that case, I wondered at the mental fortitude needed for him to not have a psychotic break and come up with a scheme to singlehandedly kill an Endbringer or something equally harebrained.

Dad was a bit more competent, in that he actually gave me some degree of praise that actually worked like praise. "You did great, Taylor. Even I was a little intimidated." He then realized what he just said. "In a good way."

The fact that I initially felt my ego swell at realizing I just scared my father, the guy who knew I was psychologically incapable of hurting him, was more than a bit unnerving, though. More power effects on my personality, or had I grown a bit more power-hungry than I realized? Being showered with attention after being a bullied ghost probably did weird things to your psyche. Yet more for Yamada.

Despite hints of my growing megalomania and/or enjoyment of my rather dark image, though, it seemed like a good day. The first of the rest of my life, and nothing could bring it down.

* * *

Carlos grinned apologetically. "Whelp, looks like the police department read your file, Taylor. Seems like you've been asked to help with the investigation of a ritualistic murder."

Was this going to be a thing? Because if this was going to be a thing, I needed to be less optimistic.

"Fine. Any hints on what the ritual involves for tomorrow?"

"You have to do it tonight, they were delaying until your reveal, beginning a day ago. They're worried about the scent losing potency if allowed to linger for more than that and possibly losing hints. And it involves organ removal."

I resolved to immediately begin thinking of my pre-trigger life, starting now.

* * *

**A/N**: **Behold, the first part of the vague outline arcs! Hopefully this will keep up the quality index despite being slightly unsure of what happens next.**


	8. Chapter 8 (Alecto)

**A/N: And now we get into the real meat of this fic…in a chapter or two. Maybe. This arc.**

**Also, WE HAVE A BETA! Thank you, DarkDaemon.**

**Also, is the Criminal Minds-esque murder scene below enough to bump this into M territory? I left it mostly implied).**

* * *

**Alecto 2.2**

* * *

Dusk in Brockton Bay. The moonlight twined through the buildings like a woman caressing her scarred lover's hair. The street I had found myself in was one of his more recent wounds in that simile, a dark, jagged rent with a spot of red seeping out. The body was leaning against the east wall, not even hidden, like the killer who had torn the poor sap's chest open was proud of what they did. Showing it off to whoever saw like some kind of crimson painting at an exhibition themed after human horror. I didn't quite know what was going on yet, as I had just gotten out of the van, but my gut was already telling me two things:

One, I should stop giving myself a noir internal narration.

Two, I really shouldn't have eaten before we left.

The driver smiled in sympathy at my retching. "It gets easier (half-truth). Thankfully, we don't deal with these sickos on a daily basis."

"You're not the parahuman detective," I replied, hoarse from queasiness. "I probably will."

"Ah, well, you'll get used it (half-truth)."

Nodding as I flipped my face plate on to not show just how green (in all senses of the term) I was after my showing earlier today, I stepped out, calmly and with purpose. Calmly and with purpose, just like I was advised.

A grey suited detective ran up to me. "Adrasteia. Good to meet you in person, I'm Officer Bennett."

I shook his hand, ignoring his instinctual shudder as he realized what my talons felt like. "Well met. I'll keep this brief: Why did you ask for me? A serial killer is a monster among the worst of them, but I understand you're competent enough yourselves at that."

"Technically, this is the first murder we've had, so not a serial, but…take a looksee." Bennett walked over to the body. More specifically, the part near the body where the victim's organs were, all laid out neatly and carefully. "First, of course, is in fact that this is the first time this particular MO is sighted, and I'm going to take a wild guess and say our dissector is the kind of person who'd happily do this again for whatever reason. Second is the trophy."

"Trophy?" I tried to not to retch with that word. First case, and I get a mutilator who likes to take mementoes. Grand. How copacetic.

Bennett gestured to a suspiciously empty spot in the circle of organs. "His liver is missing. Behavioral analysis hasn't come out to say why yet, but I had this case a couple years back. Perp owned dogs, and was also a canni-"

"Right, don't wanna know! I'm only fifteen you know!" As soon as the words escaped my mouth, I instantly regretted them. "Great job Taylor, break character on your first outing."

And then I realized I said that out loud. "Crap, don't tell the force I'm not the miniature Margaret Thatcher of Brockton Bay in real life, Glenn will kill me."

He suppressed a laugh. "Hey, hey. Take it easy, I never bought into all that pomp. Frankly I'm relieved you aren't that brooding and serious in real life, I've met Armsmaster already."

"Thank you." I flipped open the helmet and leaned over a sewer grate in case the chunks I was sure hadn't come up yet flew out. No contaminating the crime scene. Thankfully I had gotten more control over my stomach by then, so only a wet, ragged cough for me. "All right…you met Armsmaster? What's he like to non-Wards?"

"Blunt. Generally charismatic but if you talk to him for more than five sentences he usually manages to accidentally insult your mother."

"Why am I not surprised? ...Anyway let's get this over with. Any other reason you were so determined to get me?"

"Here." Gingerly, the detective led me over to the actual body, handing me a bag. "Take a look at the torso cuts."

Trying to hold back my remaining dinner via the most fake smile in the history of smiles, I did so. "Looks like he was…torn apart. Urgh…

"That's because, quite simply, he _was._ Lab says that this guy was torn apart by claws, like some kind of bear got him. Thing is, the tearing was incredibly precise, like the unsub (that's short for unspecified subject, by the way-our perp) was shoving the skin and muscle out of the way without using a scalpel. Lab also says the organs were torn out by the same method, precisely but with claws. That takes both incredible strength and medical knowledge, so we're thinking para. Hopefully not a bio-Tinker, but we can't predict if this guy's simply very sick or shopping for parts until we find him, and we think those snakes could help us be warned before we call in the Protectorate."

"Got it," I wheezed into the bag. Please let this not be Bonesaw, even though what I knew of her suggested this would even more horrifying if she were around. I willed the Medusas to come out, and after doing a quick scan on Bennett as a test (seems he had been hogging more than his fair share of the donuts and got other people to buy them for him. Boo), I focused on the corpse, letting the snakes do the seeing for me (as I really, really did not want to look at it any more).

Obviously, the first scent was his murder. Three days ago, just like in the report. No surprises there, except for one. "He was ripped open after his death. Actual cause was a poison arrow to his heart, was removed during his dissection."

"Huh, you'd think a perp looking for organs would care more about the state of them. Continue."

More hissing, and actually a big surprise. "I'm getting the scent he was actually killed somewhere else, then moved here for dissection. Motive was that the…unsub didn't want people to find her-yes, her, this one's a woman-ahem, hunting grounds, and the blood would have risked that the authorities were alerted. Uh, I'm not getting her appearance, um, she came up to this guy after he was dumped, apparently shapeshifted due to lack of tools, and uh…"

The Medusas went back into their helmet. Nope. If I look at it, I'll imagine it. Nope. "Sorry, but I don't want to vomit on the body."

As I opened my eyes, I saw Bennett scribbling. "Got it. So we have a Changer?"

"Yes. Scent suggests she could have used scalpels but is paranoid about the theft being detected-really nervous about leaving a paper trail."

"Okay. Anything else?"

"As far as I know…wait." A Medusa came out again, and tasted something strange. "Here's something. Apparently she hired someone to help transport the body. Drug crimes, it smells like. Owner of this scent's also female, made a deal with the unsub. Stealthy transport and escape, far beyond what a normal car could possibly do. Tinkertech, I think?"

Bennett looked up. "Squealer," he stated.

"Who?"

"She's a Tinker of the Merchants. Specializes in cars"

"Ah. Those guys." I nodded as the name of the parahuman drug cartel from my briefings came back. Already I didn't like them, and now I liked them even less.

I followed the scent of the Merchants' machinist over to the curb.

"Yep. Unsub paid her here, seems like she also owes Merchants a favor for drug debts. Doesn't smell like an addict though…I'm new at this, but I'm going to guess you're going to find drugs in his system that aren't from deliberate use."

Even the detective shivered a bit. "Death by overdose. Now _I'm _a little queasy. I'll put out an APB on Squealer and the Merchants, say they're working for a ritualistic and highly sadistic killer. May finally Birdcage them and get them out of our hair forever."

I wanted to object, that the Birdcage was a fate worse than death, but I had been briefed on Skidmark and his crew. Given the general scum they were from their briefing, I really could not feel for the anarchic, thuggish curs.

…And when did I start thinking of anarchic as an insult? They were that, but I didn't have a particular grudge against the concept of anarchism in general. It was _stupid, _given how people needed rules to function, and frequently only threat of punishment got some people to behave, but I could respect people who rejected all authority in general.

Shrugging at both Bennett and my new sense of maintaining the social order, I stood up.

"Probably would have to throw the unsub in there too. I'm going to take a wild guess and say a person who consults a drug dealer for poisons isn't someone I'd want on the streets, ever again. See you around."

"Hopefully with Tums."

"I'll remember those." Gag prevention smile in place, I went back to the PRT van. "Let's go," I told the driver. "Back to HQ. I think I may have discovered my first supervillain raid."

* * *

First item on the next day: Drills and prep. I supposed Piggot wanted me to show off a little to cement my image, and Skidmark was not judged to be a villain that would likely cause any degree of fatality. Worst is we'd be blown into a garbage bin in front of a camera.

Still didn't mean we shouldn't be prepared for actually semi-competent Merchants, however.

"The main thing to worry about with Scrub is that his aim is actually dangerously unpredictable, since he's that bad a shot."

Emphasis on "semi".

"Thus, it's probably a good idea to take him out first, and make sure he doesn't see you. He can't aim for you at all if he doesn't know where you are, and he's not confident enough to try laying down suppressive fire." Armsmaster then clicked the slide to the warehouse the tip had said the Merchants were hiding in currently, and began to point out good hiding areas depending on where Scrub was at the moment.

I nodded, and took notes. Along with my own annotations and fallbacks (_if there's a barrel in area C3, Aegis can use that to distract him and draw fire to a place where he can't his anyone, if there's "customers" we need to announce our presence beforehand to scare them off,_ things like that).

"Mush, on the other hand, is your typical Brute, even if his body construction makes him technically a Changer. He isn't a tactical fighter at all, he just throws together a bit of extra plating around his fleshy bits and starts smashing things. The main threat is him getting in the way more than anything."

"Uh, quick question?" I piped up. "Can his trash-limbs be severed?"

"As far as I know…" Armsmaster thought for a second. "…Actually, they may be. I remember one report about a finger being broken off, and it stands to reason if the rest of his body is made of softer materials, so can the rest of it."

"Does it retain shape?"

"…The report didn't say. And no, I am forbidding you from specifically planning for Aegis to hit Mush with his own arm while making bad jokes about him hitting himself."

"And you wonder why we riff on you…"

"Clockblocker, cut it out."

"Nah, not the idea," I muttered, scribbling out more scenarios.

Armsmaster grunted skeptically, then went back to the power point. "Last and probably least is Squealer…"

I was snapped out of my planning trance by an elbow from Kid Win. "Adrasteia, you're stealing the position of team idea guy. Stop it, you have to switch power sets first."

I half-smirked before going back to scribbling. "Believe me, if you get my powers, you also get my award-winning looks. I'm okay being the team martyr on this count, particularly given how you're a lot better at finding uses for lasers than I am."

A brief pause, and then my teammate cleared his throat a bit too loudly. "Yes, I suppose that if you had my abilities we wouldn't have awesome lasers (half-truth)."

I stopped, then looked him directly in the eye. I hadn't had the Medusas out to sniff for personal issues (it was actually in case the team got any funny ideas about personal touches without alerting the rest of us, ala Gallant inviting Glory Girl again), but this was new. "…You want to talk about something?" I said, trying to imitate Dr. Yamada.

"No!" he said, a bit too loud.

Which in this case, meant Armsmaster heard that. He sighed and looked at Kid Win. "I know it seems cruel to take apart the car gun, but-"

"Sorry, wasn't commenting! Sorry!"

Armsmaster sighed, then went back to the thing I should probably be paying more attention to.

Quietly, I tore out a blank sheet and wrote "talk t/ KW a/b laser lie after M raid," which I stuffed in a shirt pocket, to be put on my bannister.

* * *

"…You don't think this is a bit excessive?"

Aegis tilted his head at the vast array of notes I made, along with two diagrams and a flowchart.

"It pays to be prepared. Frankly I don't want to be caught off-guard and end up having to work on instinct. Which is to say, that's going to happen, but if so, I want to have the plan be something we can steer back to when they go wrong."

"I don't mind that, so much as…" He picked up a note. "'In case of unstable roof, avoid supports until only Trainwreck or Mush is under them'? Don't you think that's a bit unlikely?"

"It's an abandoned warehouse, it's likely to have rusted, and there's heavy snow out there," I muttered as I adjusted my helmet. "Stranger things have happened."

Clockblocker picked up one of his own. "'If marijuana is stored, keep Armsmaster and Kid Win away from hidden alcoves, fire may ignite and provoke inhalation'? That's a zany comedy scene, Addie, not something that happens in real life." He thought for a second. "It'd be _awesome, _but still."

"It's still not healthy for your lungs. And in case it _is _something that happens in real life, do you really want Colin to make a press release while stoned?"

The look on everyone's faces told me that the thousand images I meant to engender occurred to them. "…It still probably wouldn't be worse than Clockblocker's reveal," Vista admitted.

"True, but I don't want to deal with him after he comes to and realizes he insulted the mayor's mother on live television, do you? Especially if Kid Win's responsible."

"Got it. Aim _away _from the lil' green angel," the Tinker in question responded.

"Okay then, as far as I know, no unexpected events are going to occur, unless a teammate would like to admit anything…?"

I swept the room.

"No."

"No."

"Resisting impulse to burn weed anyway."

A grunt in the negative. I bristled a little at the owner of that voice, but I ignored her existence for the moment and for the sake of the mission.

"Nope."

"Nothing at all (lie)."

I spun around to face Gallant. "I could smell that, Dean."

Gallant looked incredibly nervous suddenly, and his beams misfired, revealing the pinkish-grey hue of…embarrassment I think? I didn't see why he'd be embarrassed, unless…

My expression fell faster than my stomach. "You didn't."

"She was so upset on the call! She needed a shoulder to cry on-"

"Victoria. Is. Your. Girlfriend. Not. A. Ward," Vista muttered through grinding teeth. Yeah, this was a problem with him. Called it.

"But she can help! I mean, she can stand a hit from Scrub-"

"Sorry, not dealing with this." I grabbed Gallant's cellphone and shoved it in his face. "Call her up right now, apologize, and say she can't be there right now, New Wave is an X-factor I haven't accounted for-"

Gallant looked down. "She's already on site, planning to meet us there. She'll get pissed if I tell her she has to leave, and you know how she gets."

I flipped up the phone, and handed it back. I had heard Glory Girl and Gallant arguing from down the hall, and smelt both were usually in some state of manipulating the other into not leaving and then feeling horrible when they realized that's what they were doing. I thrust Yamada's business card to his palm, and muttered about "screw therapy rules, she can pay for private sessions."

I then went back to my note table, swept all of them off, and began scribbling anew. "Okay, so we're going to have to improv, and this is what we're going to tell Victoria…"

* * *

As it was, the ride there passed in silence, much to my own relief. Nobody felt like chewing Gallant out more than he already was doing so himself.

That, and Clockblocker made him wear a note with "THERE IS NO 'HORNDOG' IN TEAM", on the visor of his helmet on the way there. An idea I supported wholeheartedly, as shown by the handwriting. I did not need a notoriously bullheaded extra teammate with a chaotic love life popping up randomly, so I fully supported this otherwise minor punishment.

At least there was a silver lining. One part was Glory Girl's aura and invincibility, but the more important thing was that it was likely Panacea was with her sister, and thus could be joining us too. The healer dramatically increased our flexibility in tactics more likely to cause severe injury. Still couldn't resort to head blows, but I didn't think she would mind fixing a damaged organ or two

The real trouble is that, well, I didn't know if the Dallons were paying attention during my reveal. I was keeping out of sight during Victoria's spat with Dean, and Amy wisely stayed far, far away from the PRT at that time. Which meant it could be that they were seeing Adrasteia for the first time. Adrasteia the mutant. Adrasteia whose costume emphasized her dark nature as a noble monster. Adrasteia who, if Internet news was any indication, was being heralded as a new, somewhat darker image of the Wards as effective heroes rather than random icons.

And I was going to be in the vicinity of Lady Monochrome Morality and Her Amazing, Just As Absolutist Sister. I really hoped they didn't cause me to be hospitalized on my first mission before it properly begun.

...Though given how one of them _was _a hospital, that was less of a concern, but it would still hurt.

"Thank you for using PRT Express, we hope you have a nice ass-whooping." The driver chuckled at his own bad joke, then pressed a button to open the car door. Vista got into position quickly, a speed born of experience.

"Okay, first order of business is finding New Wave for briefing. Gallant, you text your girl, tell her-"

"Already done. She's a block due east of here, Panacea's healing some drug addicts hanging around their base." And with that, Gallant proceeded to spin around to face East…

And I grabbed him with a pair of Medusas. "No. Your relationship troubles can wait until after the mission. Amy trusts you, you're introducing me to her."

"Oh come on! She trusts the rest of us too-"

"And yes, I'm still mad about you phoning her in when she has no reason to be here. Since you can beam her if she has a panic attack on seeing me, I'm grounding you to peacemaker duty until after the mission, at least. Clockblocker, Vista, you go get Victoria."

"...'Grounding?'" I couldn't see his face, but I suspected he was trying to keep it straight.

"Yes, _grounding. _I'm the dark hero, that means I'm Official Ward Disciplinarian. Don't make me start handing out demerits."

"Yes, Mom." Vista sniggered herself, before she and Clockblocker ran off.

Gallant rose an eyebrow behind his visor. "...You _are _aware you're the junior member, right?"

"Yeah. I am," I admitted. "But Yamada told me to redirect my anger issues into productive uses, being the drill sergeant seems as good as any."

"Whatever you say, miss." But he went in Panacea's direction anyway. I took to the air both to follow him unseen and to watch for any incoming enemies.

About five minutes later, Gallant shot a beam into the air to notify me of finding the white-cloaked medic. I looked down to give him a thumbs up, then landed in an out of the way area to listen for my cue.

"...on your head?"

"My dunce cap. Wards weren't happy I let Vic come. Especially the new girl, she's already the planner of the team and, I quote, 'New Wave is an X-factor I haven't accounted for.'"

"She _said _that!?" A giggle. "What is she, a female clone of Accord?"

She hadn't been watching then. Damn.

"Actually, she's...I'll let her explain. Adrasteia?"

I walked out from the corner. "Hello, Amy Dallon?"

A girl with dark hair and freckles turned around, obviously surprised at my sudden voice.

Her eyes shrank into her skull as color drained out of her face.

Hoo boy.

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

"Amy, don't scream-"

"_AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"_

"Amy please listen-"

**_"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"_**

I motioned at Gallant.

**_"AAAAAAAAAA-_**gah!"

"Amy, I'm a Ward!"

The color returned to Panacea's face as she stopped cowering. "You...are?"

"Just revealed yesterday. I'm the female clone of Accord."

"Oh." The look of fading fear melted into one of shame and remorse. "Oh God, I just really came off as an insensitive fuckwad there, didn't I?"

"I was prepared for it," I said gloomily.

"Oh God." She cradled her head. "I'll make it up to you-"

"Hey, it's okay." Feeling somehow older than the sixteen-year old, I put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm used to it. Name's Taylor, or in armor Adrasteia."

"Taylor?" Her eyes lit up. "Hey, your last name wouldn't be Hebert would it? You're not the one who referred a certain veteran with otherwise inoperable shrapnel to me?"

"It is. And I didn't know you got him, but that's true too."

"Huh. Small world." Apparently Amy was less of a follower of news than I thought. She grinned shyly. "So, on to Skidmark then?"

I gave my best "rogue" grin. "Let's get that crass mother-"

Thump. I suddenly felt an aura of pure, sisterly rage behind me. A literal aura.

I reviewed the situation. First, Amy had screamed pretty loudly, so I wouldn't be surprised if Victoria heard her, or if she instinctively hit some kind of warning beacon during her panic attack. Second, I had my claw near her neck, and had instinctively wrapped my wings around her to comfort her. Third, the costume and snakes.

This was going to _hurt, _wasn't it?

Panacea apparently realized this too. "Vic, it's not what it looks-"

Too late. I suddenly found myself flying at a wall. Without any input on my part.

I braced for impact.

* * *

"So that's what happened," I finished, rubbing a healed but sore wing.

Thankfully, my body generated mass of its own with regenerating my wings, so the fractured bone in it was a non-issue, Amy just had to steal some from the meaty bits.

Glory Girl, on the other hand, was trying to make herself as small as possible while not going anywhere near my eyes. If Amy was ashamed by her initial reaction, Glory Girl was despondent (I wasn't sure if the incoherent babble of syllables I heard was due to the headache or Victoria trying to apologize in five different ways at once), a problem only compounded when I smelled her aura activating in the key of "pity me", and, not thinking, told her to cut it out. Of course, it _then _turned out she had the same misfiring problem as Gallant, and I ended up making her feel even more ashamed of her behavior. Go me.

"Huh. So the Merchants are working for an S9 wannabe?" Amy sighed. "Great. Just great. We're off to help with a _serial killer _problem, and we end up earning a perfectly nice girl's eternal enmity. We're sorry, by the way."

"For the fifth time, I forgive you." Actually, no I was still pissed, but I couldn't fault Victoria for wanting to protect her sister. "Nothing was permanently damaged."

"She's still upset about the concrete in her lungs though-"

"Clockblocker," Vista warned.

"Right, sorry."

"...Hey wait a minute," Victoria suddenly spoke. "I can see Aegis being posted somewhere else with Kid Win to keep an eye on the warehouse, but guarding is more of Vista's specialty. Why isn't that archer girl here?"

Silence. Green tears in my eyes, I muttered "Personal reasons."

It took a second for the elder Dallon to catch on. "Oh. I won't press, don't worry."

Gathering my composure, I flipped the helmet back on. "Thank you. For now, let's go bust some drugs."

Glory Girl smiled. _This _was what she was used to. "I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

**A/N: In case you haven't noticed, this is the chapter where I start cracking on the fix fic aspects. Doesn't mean it will be easy or altogether successful.**

**Also, a bit more of Taylor's growing diabolical instincts (aka, GET IN LINE, CITIZEN).**


	9. Chapter 9 (Alecto)

**A/N: I am a writing machine...with block. This is my first action scene in...ever, I think. And writing someone who's only creative strength is in swears. Spoiler alert, Skidmark may be a little less colorful than he should be.**

**Also, I've discovered a benefit of teasers on Spacebattles-the board often has better ideas than you. Thanks Ryune.**

* * *

**Alecto 2.3**

* * *

The next part of Operation Goods Devaluation (wow, Clockblocker was rubbing off) was what was supposed to be stealthily taking positions for a surprise attack.

What actually happened was that the next part was convincing Glory Girl that stealthily taking positions was actually more rewarding than a full frontal attack in the long term.

This was about as difficult as it sounded.

"What do you mean, _wait?_"

"Funnily enough, we mean_ waiting_ by _wait._" I was actually cradling my forehead now. "Not all of us are invincible-"

"I am!"

"...And frankly we're worried about the Merchants suing us."

"So? It's not like they'd hold up in court. They were healed by sis and they're the guys working for a serial killer with an incredibly nasty MO."

"Ritualistic killer," Aegis piped up, sounded just as resigned to this as I felt. "Not a serial yet. And it still pisses off Piggot."

"The_ sky stubbornly remaining blue_ pisses off Piggot," Panacea chimed in. I had to agree there.

"Thing is, though? It's pretty well-known that Adrasteia planned this out, and furthermore that Gallant let non-Wards come along _again,_" he said as he glared at the at-fault teammate, "so I'm already breaching protocol, and you know very well that a breached protocol to the Director is as blood to a shark."

Victoria was fuming now, though careful to avoid releasing her aura. "Well, so what? I'm a good outside cape, and I get the sense she's smart, so what does the Pig care!?"

"Because I'm new," I guessed. "Really new."

Both Dallons looked at me in surprise. "Really?"

"Really really new," I finished. "As in, was revealed two days ago new."

"You were!?" Amy did a quick scan of my costume. "Well, I guessed, but…you were openly revealed two days ago and this is your first mission?"

"The second, actually," I admitted. "The first was the investigation. By all rights, I shouldn't be the brains of the operation, I was just given the time of day because I made that many notes and plans."

Aegis shrugged. "She's good at preparation, as far as I can tell."

"Well, that explains why we hadn't heard of you," Glory Girl winced slightly. "Minor villain group called the Undersiders have been acting up, we tried to investigate."

"Emphasis on_ tried,_" Panacea finished. "All we got was that they're guarding shipments for some mysterious patron these days, and have embarked on a petty crime spree to distract anybody who's tailing the escorts. Like us."

Undersiders. That named jogged a memory. "Win? Weren't those the 'phantom trolls' you were complaining about?"

"Yep, those phantoms." Kid Win looked annoyed even at their name. "Thing is, they never get directly involved, one of them shows up to trip some security systems in a high-risk, high-value target and then run far before we ever get the alert, but leaving blatant evidence they were there. Things like a member waving at the vault camera before leaving or a graffiti saying G+T+R+B Declaration 1: KICK ME on the back of the bank president's favorite suit. Something that shines like a signal flare despite no violent or larcenous crime being committed."

"Hence, we think that they're trying to distract us for when the shipments are shuffled around." Victoria finished. "Of course, we managed to corner Grue, the leader-"

"You did?" I said, suddenly interested.

"...except the darkness he generates dampens powers, and the guard who was helping us is a severe nyctophobe who needed the bravery aura really bad." She sighed. "Amy and I thought his entrails were being pulled out through his skull the way he was screaming, and while we were distracted, Grue shows off his magician skills and makes himself disappear."

Hm, that sounded a bit too lucky to be unintentional. I pulled out my notebook and wrote down Grue's power. "Anybody on the Undersiders who can puzzle out fears and timetables?"

Panacea looked thoughtful. "Actually...there might be, but if so we haven't found him or her. Best ideas are either Tattletale or whoever R is, we know Bi-sorry, _Hellhound's_ power already."

I looked up, amused. "Not a nice girl, I presume?"

"No, I mean her self-chosen name is Bitch. Hellhound is the PC term."

Clockblocker snickered. "Believe me, I've run that joke to the ground already."

I made a quick note to investigate Tattletale's known crime scenes and to research the parahuman-known-also-as-Hellhound, before putting away my notes.

"So, back to the matter at hand, it's going to come out that the greenest of green members was one of the authors of the attack plan sooner or later, and you were invited along without Aegis' knowledge. If things go even more off the rails, the janitorial staff is going to be very grateful if you get my meaning."

It took her a second to catch on, before nodding. "Okay, we do it your way, if only for Gallant's sake. Hate to imagine smelling him after having to scour a toilet for weeks."

"Good." And a really good point actually. I'd hate to smell _me._

* * *

Thankfully, The Part of The Plan That Was Originally Step One went off fairly well. Yes, Glory Girl was awkward when trying to move quietly and out of sight, but Panacea, as part of being a pacifist who usually found herself near violence, proved to be an excellent guide.

"Oof!"

"Sorry sis. Trying to avoid the-"

Crunch.

"..Soda can. Who leaves those a head height?"

I wasn't sure if the sigh I heard was Panacea, me, or another Ward. We only had one spare radio, and given how Victoria was probably the one we'd need to relay orders to more, we gave it to her.

Which meant that she pocket dialed it after last call. And that meant the entire network was on, due to the same reason for rotating therapists: PRT Competent Preparation, trademark.

Having a friendly guide to the fine art of stealth to someone who was hard to miss when sleeping (and groundbound by necessity of the guide's power set). At least Aegis caught on to this and assigned her to the back row, far away from where her catlike tread would possibly ruin the mission.

"Radio's on," Vista muttered.

It took Victoria a second to apparently realize where her voice was coming from. "Shit, sorry." Then silence.

I briefly considered calling her up again to complain, but it was a waste of effort. Besides, I was nearly in the Merchant warehouse.

"..and I'm saying, what are you talking out of your ass about now? Elf-fucker says she's, and I am quoting here, 'humbly offering a slightly different deal, one that both of us will find profitable," like she's some kind of Darth Bitch…"

And if the briefing was correct, the head honcho was on his patrol.

I switched on the radio. "I've got Skidmark's voice," I whispered.

"Sure it's him?" said Aegis.

I held the walkie-talkie towards the swearing for a second.

"And then Little Miss Dicktip Ears gives that shit-eating smirk of hers, and…"

"Confirmed. Could you get a better view?"

Thankful for the apparent soundless landing I apparently knew how to do, I winged up to the top floor of an abandoned tenement farther away from the warehouse and took out my binoculars.

"Visual confirmation on Skidmark. He's talking to Mush on the west side."

"The battlefield control and the big-scale brawler," said Clockblocker. "Sounds...actually intelligent. Skidmark creates an arena for Mush to pulverize people in. Apparently they have nootropics there."

"...What?" came the confused voice of Gallant.

"Neural enhancers," I said. "Something that makes you smarter."

"Huh. Think I could swipe a couple for the next test?"

"Leaving aside the idiots, want me to get them?" came the voice of my nemesis.

"Take the shot, Stalker," said Aegis.

Through my binoculars, I saw Sophia's shadow form jump to the rooftop of a building about a block from mine, readying her crossbows for easy fire one after the other. Seemed she planned to get them both in two shots.

True to the terms of the deal, I hadn't really seen that much of her after our big fight. Just passing by on my way to tests and training, trying very hard to ignore the other. I tried to put her out of mind, focus on her raw competence as a hero in prep for this moment, but years of ruthless bullying didn't go away in a month and a week.

Surprisingly, I didn't feel the need to quietly mock her, though a dark part of me hoped she'd miss on at least one.

No such (lack) of luck.

Skidmark and Mush whirled around, the Merchants' leader opening his mouth to say something that would probably melt my ears before his eyes crossed and he fell over, followed by his crony, spewing what debris he had managed to pick up in the couple of seconds before the Tinker-made toxin got to work.

Sophia made a blowing noise over the radio, as she held a crossbow to her face for presumably my benefit. "Hey, don't look now, but it's jackass season. Watch your back, donkeys."

"More like giant targets," I felt slip out.

"Adrasteia, cut it out," Aegis snapped. "You may hate her, but she's also the barrier between you and the grim reaper, so rub that monarch of yours and get back to the raid."

"Oof! What was that for, Vista?"

"To stop the joke you were about to say. Don't encourage them."

I bit my tongue for the team's sake, and was a little surprised when Shadow Stalker remained silent through all of this.

"Okay, so Skidmark and one half of the Merchants' thug squad is down. We advance?"

"I'd say," said Aegis. "Okay, so here's the plan-"

"Vic, what are you doing?"

Everyone stopped for a second at Gallant's voice. Looking at his general area, I saw a certain blonde teenager floating up to the window.

"Glory Girl, stop it," Aegis said.

Glory Girl gave no indication of hearing him. Instead, Panacea's voice came over the line.

"Um, don't look now, but sis said that since you gave the order to advance…"

I felt a migraine forming. "Gallant, I know you're a sweet guy and all, but can you be less of a pushover when your girlfriend's involved? It might save your relationship someday." I groaned. "Alright, here's the contingency I made on the way here…"

* * *

I had expected total chaos after Glory Girl was introduced, and I was not surprised.

I was surprised she had crushed Squealer's car first. My recent experiences with her had convinced me she had the mind of an ox in more than one way, none of them complimentary. One enemy down, and the living sore on the rear of feminism (who wears the kind of thing she was currently?) knew it. She had actually put on the handcuffs Victoria had thrown her before crouching in a corner to await pickup.

Unfortunately, her foresight only extended so far, as evidenced by one guy who was apparently so stoned he didn't notice Trainwreck charging over him to get at spare machine parts to form his robot arms with.

"Panacea, you're on," I muttered into radio.

"Got it."

I flipped my faceplate on and extended the tranq injector in my spear.

First shot. Ham voice: On.

"Trainwreck, you are already defeated. Surrender now, for your scent had been caught by-"  
I felt an impact on my wing, shaped like a box. So that didn't work. Oh well, it was a prototype "Big Entrance" anyway.

"So, you're that 'Inescapable' bitch," said a voice I assumed was Trainwreck's. "Heh. You look more like a lost cosplayer than-FUCK!"

Ah, first shot connected. I lifted my wing to give a thumbs up to Kid Win.

The arm Win blasted was easily repaired by a bit from what looked like Squealer's workshop, minus arm gun. I forgot the hand signal for "attack", but thankfully experience overcame young talent here, as he quickly opened fire on the array of parts. Aegis came through a window, carrying Vista. He joined the fight after setting her down on a stable ledge. Gallant and Clockblocker charged in the back door next, with the latter creating cover from a convenient tarp for the other to duck in and out of. Shadow Stalker came up next on her own ledge, gearing up for another snipe job.

I knew all this, because I was under explicit orders to avoid getting involved and instead observe team dynamics in a real world situation, only backing up if called upon and getting civilians out of the way. Seeing as how Panacea was right on Team Gallant's tail and doing a perfectly good job of that herself, I just brooded and observed. Travails of the Newbie, I guessed, and I really didn't want to push my new member privileges than I already had.

Trainwreck was a surprisingly more intelligent combatant than I would ascribe to the Merchants, in that he fought with any degree of cunning or tactical acumen. And I had to admit, he had some pretty good ideas about the whole thing. After being hit by Kid Win, the addition after repairing his arms was a pair of car doors to serve as armor for his torso (I could hear Sophia curse over the line when that happened). Next, he rushed for Squad Gallant, apparently realizing both members were the bigger threat that he could actually injure.

Of course, the term "damn with faint praise" was applicable. He apparently didn't realize that, thanks to Vista, he was moving hilariously slow. Not unlike a cartoon representation of slipping on ice from my perspective.

So, I just decided to settle in on my railing perch, an oddly birdlike mannerism, and-

I felt the railing shake as Glory Girl punched a support holding the roof over Trainwreck. Huh. Great minds thought ali-the hell!?

Beneath the rapidly crumbling roof, a junkie, a rather sad looking fellow who didn't seem aware that there were other people around him, let alone a fight.

I wasn't even aware I had taken to the air until I was dragging the guy out of the way. Not quickly enough, but enough to save his life.

A blood-curdling scream signified that his lower half wouldn't be so lucky under normal circumstances.

"Panacea!"

"Oh God. Here we go again…"

As I helped Amy and Aegis (apparently he heard the guy) dig out the junkie's lower half, my mind internally repeated what she just muttered.

Here we go..._again?_

* * *

"The fuck was that, Gloryhole?"

Amy had stabilized the guy's vitals and was now working on his nervous system. The problem with that was that a bit of roof had somehow managed to get into his leg, hence why Panacea was taking longer than normal; she had to fish that out somehow.

Which gave me ample time to chew out Victoria. In my estimation, she deserved that nickname right about now.

She bristled. "Well, I didn't see him-"

"You could have checked!"

"So, I didn't. But you saved his brain, so Amy's fixing him, no problem-"

"Which brings me to my next point…"

I pointed my spear at Panacea for emphasis. "When I called for her, she was complaining about this happening...again. Care to explain?"

Victoria looked unusually shifty. "Well...er…"

Even without the smell of growing deception, I could sense the reluctance to answer that question at all. "This happened before how many times?"

"...Once or twice (lie)?"

Somehow, I managed to shove back the power of the Hebert Clan Tirade until I got the context.

"I. Can. Smell. That. Lie," I growled.

"Um…"

She looked away.

"Look, I don't know my own strength a lot of the time, and-"

_"That guy could've died!"_ I shouted. "You don't get to go 'shit, my bad' and give a half-assed apology!"

"But sis is there! She can fix anybody I hurt!"

I had a sudden epiphany about how Glory Girl operated. I felt the acid streak down my face. "She can fix-she can fix!? Vicky, newsflash: You. Are. A superhero. Not some two-bit action lead who gets to brood about hard women making hard decisions and then being praised by the narrative for being morally right the whole time!"

Victoria looked up, eyes narrowing. "Says the wannabe villain whose plan revolves around being a coward!"

Okay, that did it. I held up a claw. "First-I wasn't the planner, Aegis was, being, oh, _our leader_ and all, I just advised when he was asking around the table and I was the only one who piped up. Second…"

I leaned closer. "We were acting_ stealthy_ to prevent _exactly this!_ If you hadn't shown up, this guy would have been scouted long before the attack and we would have lead the Merchants out of a zone of potential collateral damage instead of _charging in like a fucking lemming!_"

"Well," she said, meeting my gaze behind the visor, "You're new to being a hero, but I have a _mom_ who's a superhero, and she'd _never_-"

"Yeah, _she'd_ never." My Medusas were hissing now. "But I'm not Brandish. I'm also not rich, I don't have a cape parent, and I don't even _have_ a mom-"

She looked a little shocked at that, before she turned back to her expression back to a scowl. "Well then, you don't understand what it's like to have that pressure of not disappointing your Dad then if you're at all selfish-"

_"Your life has its own celebrity columns following it!"_ I couldn't hold back the Rant anymore. "_There are WEB PAGES dedicated to following your every move, and you GO ON RECORD stating you love the attention!"_

She was getting mad again. "Well, _excuse me_ if I kind of feel like acting heroic for said columns instead of sneaking around to stab people in the back-"

I was going to hate myself for this later, but she needed to have some sense slapped into her. "Yes, because acting heroic solves so many more problems than being _restrained."_ I pointed at the wing still regenerating from Panacea's emergency reallotment.

Victoria suddenly turned very red and looked down at her feet. "...I see your point," she said sullenly, as I caught my own scent again. I just hoped I hadn't ruined a potential alliance here, with Amy especially.

Or was going to. "No. No, I don't think you do."

I flipped open the helmet to reveal my acid tears. No pose this time, I was doing this for her, even if it hurt.

"Take a look at him, Vic. Take a good long look."

The image was rapidly losing its effect due to Amy finally getting the shrapnel out, but the unfortunate's body was still twisted.

"See that? See that guy, who if it wasn't for your sister may have been, I don't know, parapalegic for the rest of his life?"

"Imagine if that was Gallant. Or Amy."

Glory Girl looked taken aback by this. The man groaned as Panacea jerked up in surprise at the venom in my words.

"Actually, you don't have to imagine it right now, because the way it's going? That's_ exactly_ what's going to happen. You're going to make a stupid mistake someday, and your _maid_ won't be there to save you from your own _idiocy_, either because she's somewhere else fixing a different mistake or because she's the victim. You'll cry, you'll beg, you'll be desperate for someone to clean up your _mess_, but guess what? Nobody's going to clean up your mess like they have a hundred times before in your spoiled little rich girl world, and then _maybe_ it will get through that golden ball of yarn you call a brain that there is such a thing as cause and effect, and then _maybe_ you'll understand my position a little better."

The druggie finished healing, and Amy rushed in. "Hey, hey I fixed him there's no need to get up in arms about it-"

"Stop defending her."

The younger Dallon paled a little bit and backed off.

"You know how I triggered? How I became a monster?"

I didn't wait for an answer. "I. Killed. Someone."

A small gasp from both.

"I was trying to protect someone from harm, to stop a villain, _just like you_, and guess what? Through no intention of my own, I ended up taking someone's life. I don't care if he deserved it or not, I don't care if it was justified, but Taylor Hebert became a murderer, and dear God why don't you know this already?"

I advanced. "Nevermind. The point is, I've tried to walk away from that, to be a purer person, a better person, but I still can't justify what I did to myself. The Sphinx was a person, even if an evil one, and I still can feel the blood on my hands when I wake up sometimes from my nightmares. That I did it to protect someone else is probably the only reason I'm still_ sane."_

I locked my eyes with her, ignoring the forming tears. "Now, how would you deal with it, I wonder? How would little Victoria Dallon, whose worst experience in her _entire fucking life_ was a_goddamn basketball game_, one she _jokes about how silly it was in retrospect_, deal with the death of someone, though her_ negligence_, she caused? Someone close to her, because she was so _reckless_ that she didn't bother to hold back and think like a human instead of a rabid bear for once in her life!?"

I was nearly touching her nose with mine now. "So, here's a little message from someone who has actually been there; Grow. Up."

She was in full cry now, and I didn't bother telling her to turn off her aura. I think I made my point.

It calmed me down though, and I already felt remorse over the whole thing. I didn't want to undo my little chewing out though, so I instead turned to a shocked Panacea. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

Her eyes narrowed as she put a hand on her sobbing sister's back. "You didn't have to go there."

I didn't have an answer for that.

As I strode back to the other Wards, the healer in question glaring at me reproachfully and the scent of bullying wafted behind me, I caught Shadow Stalker out of the corner of my eye, lurking in her corner.

I could have sworn she was _beaming_ behind her mask.

I could also swear that I had not felt more ashamed of myself in my entire life combined than in that one moment.

* * *

The time from my outburst to exiting the building passed in silence. The Wards minus Shadow Stalker were apparently too shocked at how I truly lost my temper at someone they ostensibly liked, I felt too guilty to talk to Glory Girl about it, Panacea was too angry at me for reducing her big sister to tears, and Sophia...yeah, I wasn't going to talk to her in a million years about it.

Apart from that though, everything was okay. Clockblocker had frozen the dazed Trainwreck, and I was waiting with a tranq powerful enough to overcome whatever speed-alike he was on with a little help from Gallant. Nobody else was seriously injured, and Squealer was still waiting (im)patiently to be arrested, so I supposed the mission was a success.

Then we exited.

The first thing we noticed was that Skidmark was gone. Mush was still there, but it wouldn't be at all surprising that he left his team behind. Almost immediately the team formed a defensive circle around Amy.

Then we noticed the "incoming call" light on the walkie-talkie. Aegis switched it on.

"M-m-mayyy-day…." my driver's fractured voice sounded over the connection. "L-location f-f-found...p-poison a-a-arrow…"

Amy was the first to comprehend what came over. "Which direction?"

As quickly as we could in a defensive circle with Aegis as aerial lookout, we ran over to the van.

There were three things of note. First, was of course, the driver, who had an arrow sticking out of his side and was twitching rapidly, apparently in cocaine overdose. Amy was able to calm him pretty quickly, though his eyes were still lolling. No brains, and I hoped that limit wouldn't cause him to have a stroke or something.

The second was the broken left window of the van, almost like a bullet rather than an arrow.

The third, and most pressing, was Skidmark.

Or more properly, what was _left_ of Skidmark. Still enough to look at us with terrified, pleading eye (in the singular), though I wondered if that wasn't a sign of fate being a cruel bitch.

After the first guy was stable, Amy ran over to the charred drug dealer and attempted to use what mass he had left to save him. She didn't show any sign of nausea, unlike either her sister or any Ward, including me.

As his vocal cords healed, a bit of blood dribbled out his mouth. "B-bitch...t-t-turned on me. Cu...crazy. Put...h-h-heater e-element in…"

Phwp.

And with that, Skidmark was put out of his misery by an arrow.

"Rubbish. And I was really hoping you'd be number two. Peasants can't even manage to die properly...Oh well, there's always other sacrifices."

Everyone spun around to face the owner of the soft, almost lyrical voice, who I swore wasn't there until a second ago.

"At the very least, I can wonder what a great avenue of research you'll be, quick. I wonder how you'd interact with necromancy.."

The first thing that struck me about the longbow-wielding psychopath wasn't the anachronistic diaphanous gown she was wearing, like some kind of fairy tale princess. It wasn't the unearthly beauty that nonetheless had a rugged, somewhat muscular tone to it. It wasn't even the pointed ears.

It was the complete lack of anything resembling sanity in her bemused smirk. Or compassion. In fact, the expression was one more of a casual visitor to an art museum, admiring the portraits despite the mangled corpse she assisted in making.

The fact said dress was stained with what looked like charred flesh really didn't help her first impression.

Aegis was the first to recover. "You...you did this?"

"How uncouth!" The "elf" whipped around to look at the team leader with a mildly offended expression. "When addressing a noble, a person of low position is meant to use the honorifics 'your serenity', 'my lady', 'most honorable', or even 'madam'! Your world _has_ backslid from its halcyon days. Nay, I daresay you are quite barbarous in this decadent culture."

"Barbarous _this!"_

Glory Girl flew at the elf, rearing back…

And impacted an invisible wall. She drew back, shocked at being stopped more than anything.

The elf sniffed. "Admirable cunning, but I am of my Grandfather's kin in mind as well as flesh. Please allow me to make some pleasantries before our combat, hm? My arrows cannot penetrate this either, and before you inquire I invoked this spell before I began speaking."

Victoria growled, but withdrew.

The elf turned back to the main party. "I am impressed enough by the attempt at ingenuity, however, that I am willing to cede you that as a sign of naivete rather than rudeness. Yes, I am the responsible party for that brigand's demise and attempted sacrifice to Lord Haagenti. I wish curry his liege's favor in my attempts to rid myself of dependency on the strange craftsmen of this world. Tinkers, I believe they are officially termed?"

All right, she was batshit, too. I detected a rather familiar scent too, but I probably wanted confirmation just in case my Medusas weren't admissible in court. "My lady, forgive me, but I could not help but recall something that appears to have beeen your handiwork?" Dear god I felt like a complete tool even thinking that. If it wasn't for the person I was speaking too, I probably couldn't keep a straight face.

The elf examined me. "Hm...Do you prefer Adrasteia or Hebert, serenity?"

I blinked a little in surprise. "Er, Adrasteia, in costume."

"The answer is yes, Lady Adrasteia," she said in an almost obscenely casual tone, as if she was discussing some rather pleasant weather rather than the gruesome murders of at least two people. "I am indeed the party responsible for the ritualized death of Elder Roberts, and the attempted ritual of Mister," she rolled her eyes a little, "Skidmark."

I immediately discovered there were people in the world I hated more than Sophia. "Elder Roberts." Like he should be honored to have his corpse _mutilated_ to satisfy the delusions of a sociopath.

Apparently the elf picked up on my growing disgust for her. "Oh, don't be so condemnatory, sister. You share the same link to the Lower Planes as myself, after all. I dare say I deserve it more than you, who have it by sheer accident of inheritance."

Those last few words hit my ears like a freight train.

Clockblocker said what I was thinking. "...Sister?"

The elf looked up in surprise, then gave an airy laugh before holding her head in a _silly me _gesture. "Oh, not in that sense! It is merely an honorific among those of us who share the immortal blood of King Azrai. She wasn't even a distant cousin until quite recently."

Azrai.

The name of the god I was in my dreams.

"You...have those dreams...too?"

The elf's eyebrows rose. "You _are _a naif, are you not? But I suppose that is to be expected."

The Wards looked just as befuddled as I was. There was a moment of utter silence before the elf suddenly grinned apologetically.

"I am also a complete hypocrite. I have yet to introduce myself!" She curtseyed. "I am Marchioness Danita Kusor, Kin to Shadow and Daughter of Azrai. Most, however, call me by my _awnshegh_ title, the Chimaera. It is an honor to meet you."

* * *

**A/N: Annnnd...Cliffhanger!**

**Also, no religions were meant offense by use of "Elder" as a title for sacrifices to demon lords. I just saw it was a title for missionaries, and thought it was an appropriately creepy way to refer to the "honored" position of sacrifice to curry favor from demonic patrons. If there are any who were offended, I apologize.**

**(And now I remember it might be that Panacea is actually older than Glory Girl. She ****_seems _****a lot younger, so if that's a mistake I'll leave it in, but I want to make sure that it is or not).**


	10. Chapter 10 (Alecto)

**A/N: And now, the moment you've all been waiting for, the multi-chapter fight scene! **

**...After these important expository messages.**

* * *

**Alecto 2.4**

* * *

My power didn't inform me of the individual personality traits of people, but Chimaera telling us her real name told me several things already.

It had been all but beaten into me that the No Real Name Rule was sacrosanct for a reason. This probably meant that Kusor either had nothing she valued enough to protect, or was so confident that we wouldn't leave to tell she didn't need to bother concealing her name.

Either way, she already seemed even more dangerous.

"...You dare to mock me?"

Chimaera's eyes narrowed dangerously.

...Where did that come from?

Clockblocker tilted his head. "Huh? But I didn't-"

**"Silence, quick."**

All of us jumped back a little.

Besides the rough deepness Chimaera's voice just picked up, a transformation came over her face. Where before she looked cruelly regal and serene, now it was a beautiful mask of rage, a dark snarl. I could even swear her pupils turned slitted like a cat's for a second.

**"I wasn't speaking to you."**

And just as suddenly, it was over. She smiled sweetly.

"I was conversing with my new sister, not the would-be heroes who left their nurse out in the open. If I did not see her potential, I could have easily aimed the arrow at her."

...Good point. Why didn't she-

_Plans to take Panacea for her own experiments,_ the sin-scent reminded me.

Oh.

"So, as I was saying, **you are to respond to your elder, serenity."**

Okay, be polite as possible, don't make any sudden moves, hope she doesn't get bored and attack immediately.

"O-Oh, my most grievous apologies!" I said, attempting to keep the terror of_ oh god full attention of serial killer_ out of my voice. "I am quite the bumpkin, unlike...my lady, so I am unfortunately quite uncouth compared with one such as fair as you."

Aegis quickly caught on. "And forgive these…peasants for intruding on my lady's conversation. We will be _out of her way,"_ he punctuated as he waved over the other Wards to confer.

Chimaera either did not notice or did not care. "Hm. Adequate."

Okay, first some questions. "Forgive my presumptions, but I could not notice you seemed to be aware of the name Azrai. As far as I am aware, that is a simple dream, little more."

**"You dare insult Grand-**ahem." Chimaera ran her hands through her hair. "I see you have heard the blood-song. Quite magnificent, isn't it?"

"Blood-song, my lady?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Vista looking rather intently at Chimaera. Looking for flaws in her invisible wall, I guessed.

"Your world has a concept of genetic memory, does it not? A story in your very cells of your ancestry and heritage?"

"I was under the impression that was rumor and hearsay, my lady, but nothing concrete. More than that, a justification for the in...overly superior ideology of barbarous groups like the Empire 88." Don't use "inbred" in front of someone who possibly is, given use of a title like Marchioness.

"In normal circumstances, perhaps." She smirked. "Then again, it is normal for creatures to age and die as well, and that is a chain I have cast aside. Perhaps you as well, sister."

_If you've lived long enough to notice, are you a first generation parahuman? I'd think I'd smell more ritual murders if she's been around that long; I don't think that kind of crazy can be held in,_ I thought. Vista growled at something, and whispered something to Aegis.

"But I digress. The thing is, Lady Adrasteia, that you earned a most esteemed noble title with the slaying of that barbarian, and with it, privileges. The ability to know, keener than any commoner, Grandfather's greatness among them."

"The Sphinx?" I asked.

"Yes, that one." Her eyes went catlike for a second, but she never lost her serene expression this time. So his power was like the Butchers'?

Wait. If his power was like theirs in one way…

"I hope t-that his disposition isn't translated!?" I said, a bit more frantically than I wanted.

"Oh no, Powers above no!" She laughed, apparently warmly. "The Sphinx is gone forever, and his title among we _awnsheghlen_ is in service to you, now and forever."

I breathed a sigh of relief.

Wait, on-shey-what?

"An...interesting term for parahumans, my lady. If I may ask-"

**"DON'T COMPARE ME TO THEM!"**

It took everything in me to avoid leaping back into a member of New Wave, and even Victoria startled. I noticed her bolstering aura now, but it seemed Chimaera didn't.

Her eyes were more than just vertically slit now, they were actually the golden color of some great panther. Something rustled under her gown as a brief flicker of green scales danced over her nose.

"Do not compare me to this world's excuses for heroes. I have as much in common with them as a man has in common with the **tick clinging to his brow."**

I decided I did not like Chimaera very much. I noticed both Dallons stiffening slightly.

Trying to hold back in my growing disgust, I kept on stalling for the team. "Forgive my impertinence, my lady. I am simply unaware of any other variety."

**"Hmph."** Her eyes went back to their normal blue. "Be as it may, you and I, serenity? We are no random empowerments of trauma. No, you and I are the heirs of kings."

She puffed herself up. "_Awnsheghlen,_ in the tongue of my mother's race, Taylor, means 'blood of darkness'; the get of Azrai, God of Darkness, Transformation, and **Primal Chaos!"**

The list of her mental disorders kept on getting longer and longer.

Thankfully, Panacea asked the question for me. "Forgive me, but you still seem like a-"

**"What is the matter with this planet!? Can you not comprehend the immortal before you!?"** She actually hissed now.

The Wards seemed to have given up on finding a break and instead were surrounding her for when she did drop the invisible walls.

Meanwhile, Chimaera got control of her emotions again. "Fine. Since you apparently all need it explained to you in simple language:

"I am from another world, with a different sun. Parahumans do not exist there, only blooded like myself, the Sphinx, and recently you."

Almost immediately, I heard a derisive snort from Glory Girl, which I had to stop myself from copying-

My snakes picked up nothing.

Immediately thereafter, my jaw dropped.

Victoria picked up on this. "...Wait...she's not being…?"

"Oh, come on!" Amy was the first to react. "Your power just changed your appearance! Just because you think you're an alien doesn't mean, I don't know, Glastig Uaine's an elf."

The Chimaera seemed to mull over that, and then cackled a bit. Either she was that delusional or, yeah no she was just crazier than a shithouse owl. I don't think it counted as a lie if you believed it yourself. I mean, she couldn't _possibly-_

"There should be some of my genetic material and cells on that ruffian's implanted heating rods where I cut myself. You can read it, healer, tell me if you find anything that implies that I am simply a mutated human."

"Fine." Apparently trusting that her own immunity to poisons and diseases would protect her from any nasty surprises, Panacea put her hand on the heater element.

When she turned around, her own mouth was working like a fish.

Either Chimaera had found the one thing that got past Amy's defenses...or…

Holy.

Shit.

**"Took your pathetic minds long enough."** She straightened her hair again "It is...aggravating."

I couldn't say anything. I was still trying to comprehend if my (and Panacea's) powers were faulty or were _extraterrestrial._

Panacea was the first to recover. "But you're so.._.humanoid!"_

"Yes, I suppose raw evolution would seem to suggest a different form from a humanoid if all things were left to chance, wouldn't they?" She sniffed. "Make no mistake, though, I am not quite an alien, as you define it. About one sixteenth of my genetic makeup is human, though the rest is either Sidhelin or some miniscule fraction of divinity. Certainly not enough for this wondrous face of mine."

And with that, everything I thought I knew about biology (or at least my sin-scent) was now suspect. Amy's brain seemed to have shut down as she mouthed unintelligibly.

Glory Girl, thankfully for her thought process, was apparently not that great at the wet sciences in class. "...I get it. You're the vanguard, aren't you? Your race created the Endbringers to soften us up so your_ fleet_ could-"

"I have no idea what you are speaking of."

"Truth," I instinctively muttered.

"...Oh." She went back to glaring.

The younger Dallon recovered slightly. "I...what _are_ you?"

**"As stated before,** a descendant of a dead god, born and remade to rule, to transform, to mold everything that exists to my personal vision…"

Her mouth split in a fanged smile. **"And destroy all that which I cannot."**

"...Wait." I said, having finally found my voice. "Descendant? I think I'd remember if my mom had elf ears. Or was a monster."

She laughed airily at that. "First, not all of us are so blessed with a transformation into our truest selves, and second, she most probably was not. You earned the seed of Azrai when you usurped it from the **undeserving, as did I."**

And suddenly, everything made sense. "The Sphinx," I breathed.

"I see the mind he so respected finally shows itself! Yes, the Sphinx, Lady Adrasteia," she said, still giving that fanged smile. "You proved him unworthy of his mantle through your strength and cunning, and by bathing your hand in his heart's blood took it unto yourself!" She laughed again.** "A fitting end, for the hunter to die to feed his own prey!"**

My mind was reeling again. By killing the Sphinx, I gained his power? I was apparently meant to serve as some kind of ruler and weapon against the world by an alien god?

...She was amused that I _murdered_ a member of her race, and a fellow parahuman-equivalent?

"Now, I on the other hand, took my blood as a deliberate end for my quest for immortality and perfection." She twirled as if to show off her body. "Now not only do I have the truest form, I can take my old one should I desire it as well! A perfect fashion** for me to hunt the quick."**

My disgust hardened into hatred. The Chimaera, by any definition, was evil, whether by "sidhelin" or human standards.

"...You _monster."_

"I have heard that applied to the_ awsheghlen,_ yes. The _progenitors_ of monsters in fact, both our own Azrai-born powers to shape the world or the blood passed down to our children." She smirked in dark bemusement. "You could be the first of a great line, serenity; from your ground will be grown even more of Azrai's descendants, born with the strength you have earned. Assuming that the **bastardization** does not dilute what their mother grants them too much, you will be the patron and empress of the House of Hebert, a magnificent dark family of god-kings who reign over all you survey."

She laughed again. "Perhaps then they'll teach this regressed world something of chivalry!"

"You're one to talk!" I shouted, all politeness forgotten. "You kill people with the most_ horrifying_ poison imaginable, and you act like the fact you stole your power from someone you murdered makes you better than anyone else!"

"Oh, but Lady Adrasteia, I have every reason to. After all,** I can steal more…"** She stared at me with her blue eyes.

Intently.

Eagerly.

_Hungrily._

_Plans to kill me to take my powers and make hers more stable,_ the Medusas tasted.

Oh.

Oh shit.

I put my wings in front of my heart as I drew my spear. "You're outnumbered," I squeaked.

New Wave caught on. After a brief moment of horror, Glory Girl rushed in front of me. "Surrender, and _maybe_ I'll let sis heal you, you cannibalistic freak."

Aegis landed next to me. "I heard everything, and I can assure not only are you outnumbered, you're surrounded, and the moment you drop that field, we will strike. Deadly force can and is authorized against someone who poses a clear and present danger to a Ward."

"I'd wager_ you'd_ enjoy that, quick." The Chimaera smirked. "Maybe make you somewhat passable as strong."

"And what do you mean by that!?" Aegis actually looked angry now.

"You want the real reason I don't converse with you, quick?" Chimaera smiled in the most patronizing way possible. "It's because this world's, ahem, parahumans...are a motley collection of **broken toys."**

Aegis suddenly turned silent. "...Excuse me?"

**"You won a charity lottery! A mindless gift to reward the weak!"** she crowed, yelling it into the sky, apparently to ensure the other Wards heard it. "You did not earn your divine right to rule, you got it as part of a divine welfare program to treat those without either cunning or strength to earn it for yourselves. You are all still serfs in the end, all rewarded for being **too soft to be brave."**

I smelt a growing intent to murder Chimaera. I wasn't sure how much of it was mine.

"And even then, it leaves you with, oh what do you call it, a trigger? A breaking point on an already worthless gem.** You aren't even good rivals. Just a bunch of toys** to have what entertainment I can from their awry gears **before you get thrown away."**

For a moment, there was nothing but silence and the smell of growing fury.

Then: "You..._bitch."_

The sirens of PRT vehicles wailed in the distance.

"...If anything happens, we saw nothing," Amy said quietly.

Slowly, the Chimaera began to laugh.

Gallant's blasts began to wail on the shield.

And laugh.

Space warped around her, trying to crush the shield somehow.

And kept laughing, even as her skin began to _boil._

**"Yes,****_ yesss!_**** Let your rage****_ consume_**** you! Let it ****_wash away_**** all the****_ pain,_**** all the ****_petty morality_**** until there's****_ nothing left_**** but ****_hatred!_**** Let there be ****_nothing_**** except the****_beauty_**** of a killer!"**

**"Then…you'll know..."**

The gown began to rip around the growing, almost _melting_ supervillainess as she took out a vial with what looked like…

What smelt like…

Robert's liver.

**"Between me, and ****_them…"_**

And crushed it.

Black ooze seeped out of a hand that remained disturbingly normal as its owner reshaped into a nightmare.

**"You are, now and forever…****_weak!"_**

**"AHAHAHAAHAHAH****_HAAhAhAhHaHa…."_**

**"Hssss….."**

The ooze expanded to cover the entire ledge as Chimaera mutated even further. Five giant lumps rose from the muck, as if something was crawling out of it.

Finally, with the smell of something so dead it forgot it wasn't alive anymore, the lumps _burst_, revealing five of…

The most_ horrifying_ things I had ever seen. Vulture-like wings shook off the remaining birthing ooze, covered with the telltale matting of rot and dirt but looking no less functional. Each pair of wings were attached to the unholy hybrid of an ostrich, a gargoyle, and a starving man. Four limbs that looked like all could serve as hand or foot on a misshapen, blue, and spiny torso, with small patches of similarly rotted feathers in patches spread irregularly over their forms. A long, flexible neck ended in the head of a bird of prey straight out of nightmares of things in the sky, with misshapen teeth bared back in a feral grimace. A whip-like tail coiled behind each of them, like cats waiting to pounce.

They just looked..._wrong!_

Compared to them, their re-solidified mistress didn't seem so bad, more like a strange mix between a furless lion and a six-legged dragon with almost obscenely normal-looking human hands serving as the top pair.

**"ThEy PoSe No ThReAt, NeItHeR tHe HeRoEs NoR tHe MoRtAl FoRcEs. JuSt DoN't HuRt ThE hEaLeR, wE hAvE uSeS fOr HeR."**

Something shimmered in the air.

And then they rushed.

* * *

**A/N: Funny thing is, this used to be one half of a larger chapter. Beta and I figured this flowed better to divide it in two.**

**And more fun. Heh heh heh...**


	11. Chapter 11a (Alecto)

**A/N: Please put your favorite video game boss theme on the air, because LET'S GET READY TO RUMBLEEEEE!**

**(Also, thanks to Azowiki for the Abyssal words).**

* * *

******Alecto 2.5**

* * *

**"Sondreumînt-periglh!"**

One of the winged things barked what was apparently an order to the rest before four split off into two-bird teams, rushing for the Wards.

Thanks to Vista, this didn't seem to be too effective, right up until their feathers fluffed out and started to rapidly cycle between coloration.

With a flash of multicolored light, each vanished. Or in the case of the one headed for us, suddenly wasn't far away at all.

Hah, a Mover-maker. Crap.

Trying to remain calm, I extended the lethal blade of my lance and took to the air myself, somehow managing to avoid a disgusting claw. Undeterred, the vulture beast shook its wings, releasing a cloud of mold as Glory Girl got first blood, ignoring a tail to the face.

Knowing what this probably implied, I held my breath.

"AGH! What is this stuff!?" I heard Aegis cry.

Pain.

I felt my skin split open as viny growths crawled out, ripping it further. I decided to ignore it for the time being and instead focused on crippling or killing this aberrant monster.

I went for the wing first, figuring that was where a lot of the veins were. Much to my own surprise, I connected, drawing greenish-yellow ichor despite tough resistance. Huh, maybe this wouldn't be so-

Scaly claw against my armor. Seems Vista was distracted long enough for Chimaera to get over.

I spun to face the shapeshifted alien villainess. Even in her monstrous state, Kusor's expressions were all too human (they'd be all too human given her apparent origins anyway, but it was blatant on the face of a lion with lizard scales). She was grinning savagely, a person completely at home in the bloodshed; even with the Medusas retracted, I could tell she insulted the Wards so we wouldn't hold back.

Which, given what Colin told me of the general personality of people like this, meant I could probably goad her despite the vines. "Heh. Nice try, but this-argh-armor is bulletproof, let alone-gah-claw proof."

**"GoOd. ThAt MeAnS sAfE hEaRt!"** She came at my limbs next, apparently hoping to tear them off.

Just as I intended. I felt a mild burst of pain like a paper cut as Chimaera failed to draw blood. Armsmaster's training took over and I countered with the taser attachment of the lance, straight to her wing; more than enough to distract her with pain and surprise while I flew down to Amy to kill this parasite before it did major damage.

Aegis was growling at the vulture thing, dead vine clinging to his face, while Panacea was darting in to heal her sister when she could. Upon seeing me, she gave a quick touch, immediately causing the vine to wither and exit wounds to close.

Unfortunately, that was also in range of the vulture, giving me a swipe across the wing. I felt it fizzle, and even looking at it I saw the clawmark etch itself into them. Right, these things somehow overcame my Brute ability, got it.

"Regroup with the Wards!" Aegis cried.

"Got it!" Glory Girl punched away the jaws of the vulture before scooping up her sister.

Almost immediately the monster's feathers began to scintillate again. As I flew off, I banked hard to the right to avoid crashing into the transporting aberration (and because of my currently imbalanced wing, banking to the right was really easy to do).

Glory Girl was not quite so quick on the update, but unlike me she hit like a train. The beast was rather comically knocked away by her aerial bullrush. I heard Panacea whimper slightly.

Then the sky fell on me. The six-limbed sky.

Chimaera was a quick learner, it seemed; her human hands were probing my armor for ways to pry it open even as she pushed me to the ground.

There was a flash of red and silver, and my would-be murderer roared as Aegis tried to pull her off. Seizing the opportunity, a Medusa bit the hand at my neck, causing her to withdraw it instinctively-more than enough for me to wiggle my hands free to give her a lance to the face.

The sky lifted. As I regained altitude, I heard the smack of a large body impacting against the ground. Ouch. Had to remember that.

The vulture-thing teleported back into my flightpath, shaking off more spores...and despite me flying straight, they stopped short by at least a few feet.

"Little help!" cried a female, and much welcome voice.

Looking down, I saw a vine-covered but alive Vista along with Kid Win. I guessed the monsters didn't realize Clockbloker had a time-stop ability. Also, today was apparently a bad day for him if he was staying behind.

Victoria didn't miss a beat; a quick fly-by with Panacea killed the parasite.

A bloody Aegis bobbed up. "She's a regenerator, powerful - her wings were already moving back into place when I smashed her. Clockblocker can stand more of that growth?"

"Hope so," Win panted. "Gallant next?"

"Gallant." And with that the team rushed off to Gallant and Stalker's position, Vista speeding us away from both monsters at our tail.

Even from this distance, I could tell neither Ward was having a good time. First, it seemed there were now several vulture-things, but a few disappeared when Gallant's blasts hit them - illusive copies. One of the real ones had one of Sophia's electrical arrows in it, but apart from a lot of blue sparking, it might have as well have been a piercing.

Then I heard Amy scream.

Looking back, I saw our vulture holding out a hand to the Dallons, and more importantly, Panacea being the rope in a tug of war between her sister and an invisible force.

Win caught on. While the laser fire didn't seem to really affect the vulture all that much, it did break its concentration. Back to our other teammates.

The arrow wasn't useless. Two seconds later, there was now a large, painful, and distracting lance gash in the back of the monster's wing, allowing New Wave and Aegis to rush in and scoop up Gallant.

A rather miserable-looking shadow form jumped out. "Gee, thanks for backing us up A-"

"Not now, Stalker!"

"Fine."

By now Chimaera seemed to realize she wasn't going to catch us with Vista helping out, even if by the expression of pain on my friend's face I could tell that the excess of many living creatures was really not helping her. Instead, I saw Chimaera swing by her discarded dress to get her bow.

"Hey!" I snapped and pointed at the lion-dragon.

"Got it!" Gallant released a few blasts as we passed overhead, knocking the longbow away from the lion-dragon as we flew straight into the vulture things.

No, new pack of illusions.

Crap, I didn't see how-

But I could smell. Medusa out, look for kidnapping-

Huh, these things really stunk. More so than they ever could if they were just born. Alien guns-for-hire? Seemed that way, given the brutality and bloodthirst I smelt. But it worked - doppleganagers didn't have sins, which meant the real one was-

Stab. With the knife, I didn't trust tranq would work on this guy.

**"Aidi!"**

The vulture reared back from the cut to the...eye. Eugh. Didn't seem get its eyeball, but ouch.

Grabbing Amy from Victoria before diving past the temporarily disabled aberration, I found my teammate, holding hands on the frozen monsters and trying to ignore the black woody things crawling out of his suit.

"Clockblocker!"

"Sorry, wrong cape! I'm Kudzu!"

Took me a second to realize the joke.

I heard the tiny version of Vista in the back of my mind groan. Good to see your priorities are straight, Dennis. I set down Amy to fix the vines.

"After this is done, hide. If we need healing we'll make a path to you, okay?"

She nodded.

Back to the fight.

Chimaera was in the thick of the action now, ignoring the bevvy of arrows launched at her from Stalker. She was currently clawing at Aegis while the vultures used their telekinesis to keep Victoria away. The other Wards were simply trying to find the real things by process of elimination-not easy when one was spawning more repeatedly and another kept on wading in to strike directly. At least all those who would care about the vines could afford to be out of reach.

"Gallant! Real one's at 3 o' clock!"

And fear blast! This one seemed to work, as the vulture seemed noticeably more nervous.

I saw Chimaera nod towards one.

And then it _screamed._

I didn't know quite what to think of it. It sounded like the tortures of the damned mixed with a machine gun as heard through a megaphone directly in my ear.

In fact, I felt kind of numb on a deep level as my hand lost all feeling and my lance clattered to the ground.

When I came to, I was looking right at a scowling vulture, as it knocked said lance away and used its size to form a natural cage.

I also saw the beak could also be lips. It was _smirking._

**"So, This is how the story of their protege ends. How fitting."**

Huh? "You speak English!?"

**"I do?"** It looked confused for a second before shrugging, an oddly human gesture with wings.** "Must be the effects of this plane. Oh well."**

It reached for my neck.

No, no, this couldn't be how my career ended, this was a stupid way to die at the claws of a rotting monster-

BOOM.

The monster cried in pain as something exploded on its wing. I took the opportunity to kick it away before I rolled out and grabbed my lance.

Another blast, and its wing vanished. It gave a plaintive cry (more of a whining cry of disappointment like it lost a poker game than rather than its life), shortly before green shoots came out of the stump and started crawling over it. A few seconds later, a new, odd-looking mass of vines bloomed pus-yellow flowers. Huh. Hoped that wasn't some kind of terraforming suicide bomb.

My heart soared when I saw who launched the life-saving attack. "Guys! Protectorate here!"

Aegis quickly disengaged from Chimaera to scoop up Clockblocker, while Victoria grabbed her sister.

After doing a quick head count, I saw every Ward was accounted for, then flew off to the superheroine who was quickly becoming my idol.

Despite everything that happened, the little bit of Dennis I had cultivated over the months showed through. I flipped open my helmet to reveal a haggard grin. "How's it going, Miss Militia? Don't mind me, just found out I'm an alien hybrid and a racist nearly-pure one attempted to kidnap Panacea and murder me to take my powers, summoning a bunch of birdlike abominations to help. Nothing out of the ordinary."

I saw her smile behind the scarf, more relieved I was okay than anything. "We heard everything over the panic channel. Don't worry, we're too pissed off at said alien to be paralyzed about an existential crisis about our place in the universe. Or check her story." She went back to being serious. "Is everyone okay?"

"Said abominations hit us with some kind of close-range spore that grew into very painful vines out of our skin. Panacea got all the initial infections, but you might want to check Aegis."

"Armsmaster! You heard that?" she said into a radio.

"Affirmative. Staying away from the birds."

Shortly thereafter, Armsmaster's voice rang out from the PRT convoy rolling into view. "Chimaera! You are surrounded on all sides by members of the Protectorate and Parahuman Response Team! While whatever planet you came from probably has different laws, surrender now and we will attempt to send you back home instead of rotting in a jail cell on this one, where it is likely your biology cannot function for an extended period of time!"

Miss Militia and I facepalmed in unison.

From my closer point of view though, it almost looked like the lion-dragon was tearing at her own flesh. I quickly pulled out my binoculars to get a closer look. Some way to force her back to humanoid form, or-

With a sudden tide of gore, what looked to be a pre-existing abscess burst. Among the blood and pus was a rather large glass bottle with what looked to be a human heart in it, and a collection of three vials-

Oh shit.

I grabbed the radio from a startled Miss Militia. "Colin, she's summoning reinforcements!"

A pause. Then:

"FIRE AT WILL!"

Too late. Her legs crushed the liver vials to reveal more of the black ooze, while her hands uncorked the heart bottle, releasing a storm of multicolored energy that already was solidifying.

...I begged whatever gods there were that things getting worse like this wouldn't be a fixture of my career.

Fat chance of that.

* * *

**A/N: There was an extra half-a-scene here, but due to plot holes, it has been taken away for surgery, ie rethinking the whole thing. Will be part of new half a chapter. Sorry.**


	12. Chapter 11b (Alecto)

**A/N: First, a thank you to my new beta readers, Angelform and Jaertin. Now, the new and improved chapter.**

* * *

Ten minutes later, I was reflecting on the idea that it was a great mercy that most supervillains were infinitely more restrained than Chimaera and her goons-in-a-can.

"Pull!"

And fishing civilians out of a fire that one of the monsters set. I tried not to gag at the smell of burning flesh as I fished a younger woman's baby out and handed him to Panacea.

"Left side looks fine, right needs graft."

She nodded, though I suspected she didn't need that. I needed to focus on something to ignore the chaos I kept glancing at.

Another blast of prismatic lighting surged across the PRT and the people they were trying to escort, causing even more of them to briefly phase in and out of existence before exploding. Most of them, thank God, immediately reformed, but many of them were still somehow out-of-phase with reality, and all of them were heavily injured.

The responsible monster grinned darkly and licked its doglike mouth. Its lower, more human pair of arms crossed in an expression of utter self-assurance of its victory, while the pincers sticking out of its upper body and carapace clicked menacingly. "This is what passes for soldiers on this world?" the soft, almost genteel voice of the monster intoned. "Were it not for my orders, I would stop all this pointless struggling and start offering tutelage. Free of charge." It rolled its violet eyes before leaning forward into its fighting stance again.'

Shielder growled before closing the hole in the shield that the lightning streaked through. Another barrage from Miss Militia and what gun Armsmaster had in his Halberd flew over the wall and blasted off a vulture's forelimb. Laserdream's blast headed for the hybrid monster, but it quickly ducked behind its makeshift shield of a storefront.

I caught a scent of near-mindless bloodlust.

"Greenie incoming!"

That last monster wasn't summoned by Chimaera herself, but by one of the vultures. And quite reluctantly on their part - I saw the...crab-dog slap a vulture before it actually did a motion with its forehands that tore a hole into reality (probably not the best term, but given how the last motion in its little ritual was to tear apart the air to reveal a black hole that bled a green gas, I think it fitted well enough). Out of the hole poured around...twelve of the shape that was now leaping at us, furry hybrids between a goblin and a bulldog. Three others followed suit, with varying results. Two didn't create a portal at all, but looked actually rather smug about that. One did create a portal, revealing nine more.

Even from that distance, I could tell these green things weren't soldiers. They mostly kept to the edge of the battle, rarely seen except for when they leap out of the increasingly haggard and ruined buildings. My guess is they were simply there as canon fodder and to sow confusion, darting in and out to hurt as many people as they could and distract us for the main force.

Which they did extremely well, as evinced by the bloody tatters of PRT uniform on the ground. Both what they tore off and from the crab-dog shooting through the hole in the bulwark they made thanks to distracting Shielder.

This one found nothing but Vista's spatial warp around the safety zone she and Miss Militia cleared for Panacea. And Clockblocker.

"I swear, I am going to learn how to be a mortician so I can dissect these things," I heard him mutter as its time-locked form fell to the ground. "Win?"

Containment foam around the prone creature. Thank God they didn't_ all_ have teleportation.

Eleven more vultures had joined the four already there, and after being nipped by the ones already there to apparently assert dominance, the monstrous squad immediately set to tearing into the PRT and Protectorate forces, teleporting into the thick of the action and carving through the ground forces like they were blue (and now red) lawnmowers through suited grass before the New Wave members appeared. The crab-dog was no slouch in melee either, using its pincers to tear open a tank while the human hands released some kind of energy that forced Laserdream to fire her power at Armsmaster. The damn thing was a Blaster, a Brute,_ and_ a Master. Fuck my life.

Speaking of, that was the main source of PRT casualties, right there. While the vultures weren't slouches in melee, the crab-dog's ability to turn its enemies upon themselves had little equal. Between glances, I caught Brandish blasting Flashbang and Armsmaster suddenly freezing after being hit by that energy - a failsafe against Masters, I presumed. The real trouble was that the crab-dog knew exactly how to use this to confuse Shielder - a few Master bolts hit advancing forces, and he had to create forcefields around them to protect them from themselves, which usually meant he wasn't keeping up the main bulwark…

Like now. There was a flash of energy, and one of the vultures got through the otherwise Mover-proof shield.

It got a face full of bullets for its trouble, and then death, _rotting_ as it fell on top of Laserdream...after seeding her with her the spores and hitting her with a strong knuckle blow.

"Stalker, cover!"

"On it!" A lethal bolt, courtesy of Miss Militia, flew at Chimaera from Sophia's perch.

I gagged a little at the feeling of both rotting monster and bloody cape as I tore through the corpse, pulling out the heroine before transporting her back to the safe zone.

Aegis came in at the same time, carrying a groaning (and covered in toxic-looking sores) Armsmaster. "Hang in there boss - Panacea?"

Two heals at once. I needed to treat Amy for all this.

"Gas wounds are strange for gas," she muttered to the recovering Tinker. "Almost bacterial."

He nodded before pulling out antibiotics, and running back through the havoc of PRT and screaming civilians. Greenie stopped attacking one to evade him.

Laserdream was unconscious. Damn no-brains rule.

Chimaera pulled out another vial, this one containing a blueish-grey fluid.

As it hit the ground, I had to look away from the flash. When I caught another glance, I saw the smoke it generated apparently didn't stop Chimaera or her minions from seeing at all given how they were ganging up on Armsmaster. His visor glowed with thermal vision as he struck at a vulture, wounding its leg.

The close quarters didn't help - the capes couldn't unleash their full power without fear of friendly fire, something the melee-focused Chimaera and her minions took full advantage of. Foam had no effect - the monsters simply teleported out of it, since they didn't need to move to transport, and Chimaera stayed as far away from the canisters as possible behind any cover she could find, getting said monsters to take out gun-wielders first upon seeing what they did.

Worse, _I_ couldn't help. Too much to do with the evacuation.

The long-ranged capes didn't have as much trouble with this as I did, as they could actually help a little. Even (_especially_) Gallant - those duplicates didn't have emotions, meaning his power made him just as good a spotter for Miss Militia as I was. Better, since he came with a gun.

Of course, I came with a spear. Which I was barred from using, because for some reason that I'm sure made sense to drunk politicians, an S-Class order, which would allow us to help due to higher priorities, and call in reinforcements for this bitch could only come from up high. An order that wasn't forthcoming.

...I officially hated the PRT now.

The city was less of a concern. Brandish began to bring down a building front over the crab-dog, dropping her shield to use blasts, and-

Suddenly, Chimaera. One violent slam into a column later, and Brandish wasn't helping anyone anytime soon. Hopefully she would be at all.

Glory Girl screamed and rushed at her unconscious mother. Chimaera turned around, smiling wickedly.

A few bursts of light. An explosion. I blinked.

My vision came back, and I saw Flashbang.

"Took your sweet time," I muttered. Fighting with only half of your side wasn't fun.

He nodded blankly.

I felt for a pulse. Present.

Then I rushed at Chimaera. I briefly registered a bolt of rainbow lighting. Missed, apparently. Then a green cloud, which wasn't a miss. I winced at both the pain and stink.

My Medusas came out as I came out of the gas, and-

_Snuck saboteur into forward base to hit Vista. Mind controlled him._

Oh shit.

Radio out.

"VISTA! FLASHBANG'S A SPY!"

"We noticed," Aegis said, choking.

Spin around.

I registered Shielder down, with a tranq dart in his back. Probably because it was quieter.

The vultures were out in full force. One lacking a claw gleefully threw Miss Milita into a warehouse, one with a wound on its leg began to choke Armsmaster telekinetically, and the four remaining were tearing through the remaining heroes.

Standing over a now one-armed and one-legged Aegis, currently strangling Vista, and heedless of arrows in its back, lasers, and Clockblocker desperately prying at its hands, was what looked to be a three-dimensional negative photograph of a person, spindly and slender, wearing Flashbang's clothes. And a blindfold made of what looked like dried intestines.

Before anyone could react, I tackled it away. Acting on a hunch, I tore away the disgusting blindfold.

Slitted eyes blinked blearily, coming into focus. "Wha-? Who-"

Panacea screamed.

The crab-dog tossed the struggling medic over to Chimaera as she flew back over to her remaining forces.** "ChEcKmAtE. pItY i HaD tO wAsTe HiM. dO iT nOw!"**

Above her, the vultures organized into two groups of three, and...

Began to dance?

Apparently the rest of our side was as confused as I was, as everyone stopped for a second…

Just before we saw the growing sphere of energy, pitch-black except for a core of colors, all of them grotesque, building at the center of both groups..

"CONCENTRATE FIRE!" I heard someone yell.

I saw a vast array of both bullets and lasers bearing on the dancers.

Two of the lower trio - the wounded ones - dissolved into muck, but the others merely sped up as the sphere grew bigger. A canister of containment foam flew at them, only for the crab-dog to block it while chortling darkly.

A few seconds later, they stopped, reared back to draw energy from the sphere, and let loose.

"DUCK!" I heard Miss Militia scream.

And then the roiling dark was upon us.

* * *

**A/N: Boy, ain't ya glad she wanted Panacea alive? Also, before you ask: Piggot would give Chimaera an S-Class, but she was indisposed at the time and instead there were PRT-Certified Competent Bureaucrats about, and if Clockblocker froze the doppleganger while he was strangling Vista, he would still be strangling Vista. Also, he read enough minds to know who to disguise himself as, as will be overviewed later.**

**Trick to writing Worm cliffhangers: End on a low note.**


	13. Chapter 12 (Alecto)

**A/N: And now, the conclusion.**

**I will have that TV Tropes Recommendation entry come hell or high water, mark my words...**

* * *

**Alecto 2.6**

* * *

I became aware I still had limbs.

I was somewhat amazed by this. There was_ something_ in that darkness, something with tentacles, claws and lots of teeth. Something that _hated_ with every breath, something that enjoyed tearing me apart quite eagerly. Focusing on the places where the bird-scale met raw skin despite being covered by armor. I barely managed to cover myself up before it tore me apart, protecting my vital bits from the something in it.

I also became aware of where the pain was coming from, namely everywhere that wasn't protected.

Balancing on my lance, I crawled over to Miss Militia, recognizing she tried to block the dark coming at the Wards with a riot shield she had been using earlier.

It was bad. The same non-existent skin wounds covered her in even more places than me, revealing bleeding muscle in a few places. She was still conscious, but obviously wishing she wasn't.

"You need help?" I said hoarsely.

She looked at me with the expression of one who knew she was already dead.

"...Get the Wards...run….I hold...them."

I felt a numb sensation in my chest, and nodded. I tensed my wings, regeneration somehow rendering them functional as shields.

Adrenaline allowing me to ignore my limp, I ran back, ignoring the green cloud overtaking me; I guessed Chimaera was still trying to kill me herself after her goon disabled me.

"You," I said, pointing at the shapeshifter struggling to his (?) feet. "Help."

While wounded, he looked in much better shape than I did. From what I could tell at least - his blood was red.

"Talk about pay later," he said, helping Aegis right himself while he levitated. "Who else?"

Scan. Clockblocker uninjured but frozen, given current length of power he'd be up in a little bit. Vista and Win down. Others? One.

I looked up. Glory Girl looked fine, just shocked. Was holding radio. Supposed she got it back. Amy uninjured too - guessed capturing her was to get her out of the way

"Vic, hold off Chimaera, get Amy if you can. Wards are retreating."

"...Roger," she mumbled.

Then she _roared_. Not just a warcry, a scream of pain. Family was hit, likely dead, understandable.

Chimaera and crab-dog tackled away.

A groan. Clockblocker to normal.

"Get Win. Aegis is conscious, has Vista. Spy was controlled, is on our side."

He nodded, numbly.

Hoped Stalker was hidden away safely or could soak. Now the shifter. "There's a boy in power armor, looks like a knight. Need you to hand him to me. After, get unconscious woman with red hairband"

The alien creature nodded and handed a barely conscious Gallant over, then hoisted Laserdream. Surprisingly cool after breaking free of mind control. May be because I did that.

I hoisted Gallant on my side, using wing as gurney, other to shield me. Hope Vic held own.

More gunfire. Looked back.

Miss Militia and Armsmaster still fighting. Lost accuracy, but one vulture down. Others weren't dancing again yet, likely because one holding Panacea, keeping her away from her sis.

Greenies approaching.

I blinked. Starting to cry.

The miracle of beating the Sphinx happened once. Never again.

Couldn't save them. Useless.

Didn't need breakdown. Rubbed pin to calm down. Breakdown later, save friends now-

Rubbed smooth iron instead of rough steel.

Looked down.

Same medal from dream. Huh?

_To request backup, please throw Dissian Dinar on convenient surface. For your safety, please stand five feet away from point of impact to allow for margin of error in summoning calculations._

Didn't know where synthesized voice came from. Didn't care.

Clink.

The coin glowed with a red light, distracting Miss Milita-

A city of gray metal, skyscrapers standing next to medieval parapets. The tops of all glowed with heat and the sky was filled with the smog of factory smokestacks-

Where the Dinar was, there was now the outline of a triangle, surrounded by a runed circle.

On top of those was the strangest-looking platoon I had ever seen. Knights covered in cobwebs stood side to side with gas-masked modern soldiers with armor-coated tails. What they were had no bearing on the era of the weapons they were holding; all the soldiers had shields, whether Renaissance buckler or contemporary police, and all the knights had a large-caliber gun on their back, which half immediately reached for while the others brought a pair of swords in front of their faces.

Above all of them, the monstrous sergeant from my dreams pointed at the crab-dog, chain unraveling to its full length.

Did the Chimaera's monsters look..._scared?_

"Open fire!"

And all Hell broke loose.

* * *

It wasn't a fair fight. Numbers were on our side this time. Numbers and coordination.

The masked soldiers advanced like a green-and-grey phalanx, only popping out from behind their shields to lay down a salvo. Mostly machine guns, but there was a few - four or five - flamethrowers among them. Those didn't directly attack though, just spread napalm in front of the advance, completely blanketing their feet in flames. The fire apparently bothered them even less than it did me.

One could not say the same of the scent of burning flesh, produced from the corpses they blanketed in the process. It bothered them not at all, while I was retching, along with everyone else near me.

Meanwhile, the knights the soldiers were advancing ahead of moved a lot slower, more ponderously. Whether due to their armor being that heavy or just not quick normally, they were definitely the slowpokes of the platoon. They didn't let that stop their advance.

As a greenie tried to negotiate the burning ground, a gunner among the knights calmly turned around and shot it right in the forehead. There was a brief moment where the flesh around the wound seemed to suddenly turn into a fractal pattern before crumbling to ash, then the greenie's interior seemed to evaporate into steam, leaving a hollow shell on the ground. A sword-wielder cut one that had got too close into neat halves, which proceeded to sprout a pair of snakes that began to eat them. Huh.

A blast of the Master energy resounded across the platoon, but the knights ignored it, and the masked soldiers.._.looked_ like they reacted a bit, then something flashed beneath the helm of one of them, and they went back to their destructive advance.

Then one of the knights...sang? It sounded a bit like metal being filed down. The crab-dog winced and drew back, as one of the vultures gestured to grab them telekinetically...to no avail.

The sergeant apparently didn't feel the need to join the fighting, instead flying around to look for survivors. Armsmaster and Miss Militia were already back with the Wards. There was also a couple civilians that hadn't been evacuated yet. No PRT.

I also couldn't help but notice they started laying down the fire zone _before_ the sergeant finished checking. Not that it mattered given the bodies' proximity to the blast, but I already had alarm bells go off in my skull. Whoever these guys were, they were at least very callous, or too bloodthirsty to care about hurting people in their tactics.

All survivors mostly hung back, even Sophia, who I had just noticed had materialized near us. She looked bad, but still more capable than I was. Stupid localized regeneration.

"Friends of yours?" she rasped.

"I...guess?" I replied. "Certainly enemy of my enemy."

"It'll do."

Touche, if a bit cold herself. But that was Shadow Stalker for you.

Glory Girl was too angry to care about the reinforcements. She did make it impossible for another dance to take place, having tore off one of the vulture's heads, causing it to vanish in a storm of electricity, and the strange platoon filled another with holes, casing one half of it to incinerate and another to freeze, falling apart and shattering.

The last vulture apparently gave up on smart tactics, flying at the platoon while screeching. Several of the soldiers suddenly vanished, appearing next to ones on the outskirts, leaving only the knights.

As one, they intoned a single word:** "Fall."**

And fall the vulture did, right into the inferno. A few stabs and shots later, and the knights casually marched over the disintegrating corpse. I swear I saw a few of them smirking.

"...stay back. I'm warning you."

The crab-dog was actively cowering now, eyes pleading.

"Or what?", said the sergeant, slowly winging closer. "I have the buerozas, I have the numbers, I have the strength. What could you possibly hope to gain through selling out to us?"

"I'm not pleading for my life. I'm pleading to avoid the journey to death."

The sergeant raised an eyebrow, a strangely human expression. "...Clever. Odd, but clever. I'm in a good mood today, so...have at him."

The crab-dog held its arms and torso open, and winced.

A few seconds later, its skin was akin to burned squash. It began to glow strangely, before vanishing in a silent explosion, leaving a shadow of itself on the wall.

"Hm. Normally your kind isn't so brave...oh well."

She and her forces did a quick scan of the area. No other threats.

The Chimaera was a coward too, it seemed. Amy was gone, but knowing that she wanted her alive meant that we could still save her. Take victories where you could.

The sergeant flew down, alighting in front of us.

Miss Militia's gun immediately materialized. The dragon-like soldier chuckled.

"Too low caliber, and I have no problem with you. Love to stay and chat, but a Dinar comes with an expiration date. Miss...Adrasteia, I think, will explain how she knows me."

Everyone conscious wheeled around to face me in shock. I looked just as flabbergasted as they did, possibly the same expression I had when the platoon first appeared.

She knelt, meeting eyes with me.

Hers were...odd. There was courage there, and a hardness that spoke of more than experience. Respect for me as a student, and bemusement at something so much smaller than her, literally and otherwise.

Wordlessly, she pressed something in my hand. "Tell your bosses to press the dimple on the top of that thing. The Dinar will recharge in a month, keep it for a rainy day."

She winged back to her troops, saluting as she did so. "The Environmental Division, Eighth Mixed Infantry Division, 23rd Platoon, awaits your next request!"

The runic circle glowed-

The city appeared once more-

The Dinar rattled to a stop. There was no sign of the Platoon, only the now-black circle.

* * *

Fifty dead, at least by my eyeballing it. Mostly PRT, we had evacuated much of the civilians already. No sign of Chimaera, or Panacea.

Vista, Gallant, and Kid Win's ambulance had been called five minutes ago, and the still-conscious capes and people were looking for survivors the sergeant had missed. We didn't have much luck - two PRT guys, who was hiding behind Armsmaster after the later tried to block the blast in desperatio

After checking, we discovered the living Merchants escaped in confusion. I wasn't sure how long they would last without Skidmark, so I focused on the more pressing matters.

Two capes were among the casualties. Shielder was killed, either by the flames or the thing within the summoned darkness. Perhaps both, if he survived the dark .

The other was Brandish.

She looked to have already been suffering bad injuries after Chimaera attacked her, the thing within the summoned dark finished the job. Her death was quick at least.

She deserved a better end, I thought. A heroic end, like fighting an Endbringer. Not killed by what was effectively a grenade after being knocked out.

Aegis closed her eyes. "There was nothing that could have been done."

"I know," I replied.

Everything was silent for a bit.

Said silence was broken by a choking sound. I spun around.

Glory Girl had the terrified shapeshifter pinned against a wall. Stalker was aiming a non-lethal arrow, though at who I couldn't tell. Both of the adult capes looked more confused than anything, though Armsmaster pointed the Halberd at Victoria's back.

"TELL ME!" Victoria was screaming in either rage or pain, I couldn't tell from smell or sound. "TELL ME WHERE SHE TOOK HER!"

The shapeshifter was barely able to inhale due to both being crushed and the aura I could feel from here. Probably counterproductive, but I didn't want to upset her even further by telling her she couldn't grieve. "I don't-"

"MY SISTER! WHERE DID YOUR BOSS TAKE HER!?"

"L-l-look, I c-c-can tell y-you're a fan of e-enchantment, but-"

"NO 'BUTS'! TELL ME OR I RIP YOUR FUCKING SKULL OFF YOU ALIEN_ FUCK!"_

_Is serious about threat._

"Glory Girl, he's-"

"FIVE….FOUR…"

"Victoria!"

"THREE...TWO-"

Thwack. My spear couldn't hurt her, but she could still feel the impact.

My wing absorbed her punch.

"Victoria, he was Mastered!"

The aura subsided. "Wh...what?"

"That blindfold I tore off put him under some kind of mind control! He likely didn't even know he was here until it came off!"

I peeked out from behind the wing.

The shapeshifter was gasping for breath, leaning on the ground. Victoria, on the other hand, was frozen stiff, realization coming to her face.

Emotionlessly, she turned around, rearing back. "Well, I guess we don't need him then-"

Aegis was quicker than I was, putting himself between the shapeshifter and Glory Girl. "Whoa! GG, I know you're in a lot of pain but-"

"SHUT UP SHUT UP_ SHUT UP!"_ she screamed. "YOU DON'T GET TO TALK ME AWAY FROM JUST-"

"Glory, killing him will do_ nothing_ to solve_ anything-"_ Clockblocker chimed in.

"WHOOP-DE-FUCKING-DOO, YOU GOT THAT TOO!?" She was smiling madly now, the look of someone whose sanity had left the building. "BUT HEY, AT LEAST I CAN PUNISH HIM FOR MURDER, AND DO THE ONE FUCKING JOB I'M GOOD AT-"

Bang. We all swiveled around to face Miss Militia.

"Enough, all of you! Glory Girl, I know you feel like hell right now, but-"

"Feel. Like. Hell?" Victoria was openly crying now. "I'm a fucking orphan now. Mom's dead, Dad's dead, Ames is going to wish she was dead-"

"I didn't kill your father."

Everyone spun around to face the shapeshifter, who was still rubbing his neck. "..Eh?"

"That blindfold was some kind of _charm_ spell medium. It made me think the Chimaera was my best buddy until it came off, but I retained enough of my real personality to operate like I normally do."

He stood up and held out his hands in supplication. "I don't kill unless forced, so I just memorized his face if Chimaera needed me to pretend to be him. He's fine, I just stole his costume and knocked him out."

Victoria looked at him, disbelieving...and hopeful.

No scent. "GG, he's telling the truth."

She went closer to him, aura ablaze again. She inspected him for a second.

Then she reared back, and before we could react, she threw her full punch.

There was an odd booming sound as cracks spread along the building. Victoria sank to the ground, sobbing.

"...I'll let you handle this," the shapeshifter said as he backed off.

Almost immediately, all capes present when over to comfort her. I started to drape my wings around her, and-

I caught a familiar scent. "Chimaera's still here. She was hiding."

It looked odd, badly injured capes in a fighting stance, but it was as threatening as we could make it.

The source of the smell emerged, Panacea's neck in a claw. She looked at some intermediate state between her humanoid form and her monster form. Her face was her original elf-like state, but her hair was still the red of her mane and she had dragon claws out of her midriff. **"ComE anY clOseR, anD I wIll MakE do WitHouT a hEalEr."**

The sheer amount of rage on Victoria's face made her look almost inhuman. "You.._.bitch."_

**"PerHapS. But I am Not So dEpeNdaNt oN peTty FaiRy tAle MorAliTy tO liVe."** She lowered her head to sniff Panacea. **"ThoUgh MayBe I ShoUld HavE goTteN a nOn-pAraHumAn sOurCe oF exPerImeNts."**

She laughed, an oddly human sound. **"You LivE wiTh moMmy, AftEr aLl. At wHat, SevEntEen? I dId yOu a FavOr bY fiNalLy gIviNg yOu AduLthOoD! TypIcaL thAt a WeAk pAra FamIly Has Two WomAn-cHilD spAwn."**

I did not think it was possible to hate a person as much as I did Chimaera right now. Not without exploding.

Victoria's teeth clenched as she rumbled out an animalistic growl that belonged more to a wolf than a human. But we held back anyway - I don't think anyone could move fast enough to save Amy.

Chimaera caught on to this.** "But You NeeD heR toO muCh tO do WhaT NeeDs tO be DonE. She'S thE peRfeCt dAmsEl iN diStrEss. ValUed. Kin. Has A poWer EveN weAkeR thAn aLl oF yoUrs, BeiNg a HelPleSs cOddLer Of tHosE whO woUld Be lOst In a NatUraL woRld-"**

The claw holding Panacea suddenly collapsed inward upon itself like an arm being pulled out of a coat sleeve.

The former prisoner spun around. I caught the scent of immanent murder.

Splortch.

Even at this distance, I could hear Panacea say something to Chimaera in a calm monotone. "Medicines are derived from poisons in the natural world, you know."

The monster said noting, as her prisoner's hand was inside her neck, and from the way the arm was clenched, her windpipe was being crushed.

Another splortch.

Chimaera looked down at the hand that was sticking through her chest. And out of her back.

No blood. I smelled that Amy had just shaped her heart into something that couldn't pump blood at all.

The life in the monster's eyes vanished, and she slumped.

A look of growing horror came to Panacea's face. She walked back, tearing her arms out of the corpse.

As it fell, something like liquid shadow came out of the heart-wound. It crackled with lightning that surged to Panacea before dissolving.

The medic fell to her knees, and began to cry.

* * *

**A/N: For those of you I haven't spoiled: Yep, Amy's an awnshegh now. She couldn't have stolen power from a better person, either.**

**Also, the "knights" were bueroza steel devils from Fiendish Codex 2, mid-ranking infantry with _greater command_ and the ability to sing to disrupt spellcasting. The masked soldiers were merregon legion devils, from the same source, whose laundry list of abilities depend on nearby teammates, and they're very good at using them.**


	14. Chapter 13 (Alecto)

**A/N: You know how I said this was a purely AD&D cross? I lied, I have no problems stealing from other settings, say Pathfinder, if I think it makes thematic sense. The concept of the Witch class belongs to Paizo, not me. And no, Taylor is not becoming one.**

**(A Witch, I mean).**

* * *

**Alecto 2.7**

* * *

The clock was like the ticking of a bomb.

I wondered if Piggot meant it that way, for those occasions she needed to fully impress upon her victims how utterly and completely pissed she was.

Of course, the "anticipation" side of this had been ruined, as she had decided to see the morons responsible for not classifying Chimaera as an S-Class before me. Half the people standing in the building now knew what a truly enraged Piggot was like, particularly the debriefing room downstairs from her office (Miss Militia's comment when I found I was asked for a "personal evaluation" was "May God have mercy on your soul"). I swear, people triggered from that kind of ire (oh, the irony).

I still dreaded what would come out of the Director's mouth, but at least I knew the general gist of what it was going to be. Hence why dad was here, as I think I needed someone to hide behind once she got going.

The first minute or so passed in silence, except for that infernal ticking. Yamada and the other psychologist, the one I told about the dream of the surreal battlefield and the sergeant (or rather, the 23rd Platoon's leader) looked about as nervous as I did. Intimidation tactics, I guessed. Piggot was trying to insinuate this was an evaluation about being kicked out for psychological reasons. It worked; I was trying to shrink back into my wings.

Then the Director cleared her throat.

"You didn't tell me you could summon backup," she said, utterly devoid of emotion.

"Up until very recently, I didn't know," I replied. Called it, this was going to be the sticking point. I had rehearsed for this. I could do this.

"Ah. An understandable error," she said, completely unconvinced. I had retracted the Medusas to avoid her stink, but it didn't take Alexandria to tell she was thinking of the best way to fully impress upon me the rather sour mood she was in, besides throwing me under an industrial press. I might live through that.

"Well, understandable for_** COMPLETE FUCKING IDIOTS!"**_

I jumped a little at that. Being the focus of the Piggot scream was a little more alarming than simply hearing the Piggot scream. Only a little though.

"Those men and women _**died**_ because you _**didn't fucking realize**_ you had a_** fucking distress beacon** **built into you!**_ There are _**dozens**_ of children I have to write a note to tell their parents died defending their lives, and that's just the PRT! How many _**civilians**_ died because of your_** rotting mass that you call a brain!?"**_

"I thought the Dinar was a dream!"

"Ah, yes,_ the dream_," she said, voice dripping with malice. "The dream which you noted to a psychiatrist was, and I quote 'incredibly vivid, like it was a waking memory'. Why the**_ hell_** did you not note that-"

"I never gave you those records!", the psychologist to the left of Yamada said.

"It's called a warrant, look it up," Piggot said briskly. The shrink muttered something unintelligible. Good to know the McClusky-Naegi Act pissed off more people than my mom and now, me.

"Back to my point, you **_knew_** full well this dream was unique, why didn't you at least **_test_** it-"

"It is _not_ unique!" Yamada was speaking up now. "She has a remarkable tendency to retain many of her dreams-"

"Her **_power fantasy_** dreams, if I remember," Piggot shot back. "Her power fantasy dreams, involving a person that now seems to be a genuine historical figure, noted in your report for signs of **_antisocial personality_**-"

"Because it's a crime to _daydream_ now, is it?" Dad. "If that's the metric we're using, we might as well arrest you for war crimes right now, I've heard the rumors-"

"My opinion on parahumans and my position in managing them is none of your concern, and is also **_irrelevant,_** Hebert!" She had actually stood up now. "My concern is making sure this**_nightmare_** never happens again, and your daughter is at least partially to blame-"

"SHE'S A TEENAGE GIRL WHO WAS SCARED OUT OF HER MIND AND IS SANE ENOUGH TO NOT CONFUSE DREAMS WITH REALITY!"

"She is also, as cynical as it seems, a**_ soldier_**, and the mistakes of a soldier cost**_ lives-"_**

**"YOU WANT TO TALK SOLDIERS, DIRECTOR!? WHERE WAS _ONE PARTICULAR SOLDIER_ IN ALL THIS!? WHERE WERE _YOU_, DIRECTOR!?"**

A flinch from Piggot. Wait a minute…

Medusa out.

"I was late. I am ashamed to admit it, but I get stuck in traffic as much as anyone else(lie)-"

"That's a horrible lie, Director, and you know it," I said, nearly growling. She wants this not happening again? Let's put where blame lies in _all_ cases. Shows you for yelling at my dad.

Another flinch. "I fail to see how that…" her voice trailed off as she saw the snake. Busted.

"Even if this guy wasn't drinking in every little fuck up you're done for the past week, you live practically on premises. You could have _walked_, since I doubt you're so unhealthy you can't at least use a sidewalk. Hell, given that the news was likely blaring Chimaera's attack as an emergency update, the adrenaline could have allowed you to, I don't know, _get out of the car and run?"_

Piggot's rage died a little. Points for that, she could admit when she screwed up instead of going straight into doublethink and drowning out the point in more anger. "...I have health problems, recently aggravated by insomnia. I was currently checking in for dialysis and refilling my heart medication."

Dad grinned wildly, victory in sight. "SEE? IF YOU HAD SOME KIND OF, I DON'T KNOW, ALERT SYSTEM FOR WHEN YOUR _STAND-INS_ NEED SOME KIND OF DIRECTION, MAYBE YOU COULD HAVE STOPPED THIS! OR, I DON'T KNOW, _GO ON A DIET-"_

"My kidneys were lost in the attack on Ellisburg! I've done more than _**you**_ ever will in your self-righteous little life-"

_**"EVERYONE, SHUT UP!"**_

Much to my surprise, everyone did just that. It may have had something to do with the fact I hit the lance against the door, resulting in an estraz gunshot.

I didn't know what came over me. One second, I was white-hot with rage over Piggot insulting my father, the next, I suddenly_ knew,_ deep in my bones, what I needed to do in order to restore some semblance of order.

I inhaled deeply. "Look. I made a mistake in judgement, and I hate myself for it. I really wish there was some way to tell my past self that it wasn't just a dream, I had a teleporter with me all along."

I spun to face Piggot. "This does _not_ give you, Director, the right to go around blaming everyone for the most outside context of outside context problems. Yes, there was a breakdown in command, but _I'm_ not your backup commander._ I_ am not to blame for the fuckups that led to this fiasco, only for not containing it on my own. I am truly, deeply sorry for that, and I will happily accept whatever sanctions for my negligence - hell, make it so I can't go ten feet away from Sophia on pain of electric shocks - but you are _not_ justified in claiming that I can see the future better than you do."

"As for you, dad," I said, spinning around. "Fat insults? Seriously? This woman is in a great deal of anguish from the loss of some of her men, many of which she personally knew, and you're insulting her_ weight?_ Not. Cool."

Dad turned very red, trying very hard to avoid my eyes. "Sorry," he muttered as he slunk back to his chair, looking massively ashamed of himself. Probably feeling more guilty than I was for that, but I needed to show Piggot I sympathized with her despite my objections.

...Holy shit that was cynical. On the other hand, she probably couldn't exercise very well if she lost her kidneys, so...no, that was cynical. Maybe this was that "ruler" quality Chimaera mentioned? Would I start seeing ways to use politics to my advantage too? Was I bound for a future that Otto von Bismark would rise from his grave to applaud?

...Probably better than turning out like Chimaera.

Shaking my sudden horrifying epiphany off, I stepped back. "Now, about the device that the 23rd's leader gave Miss Militia - can we at least do that and possibly get_ some_ idea of what is going on?"

* * *

The shapeshifter leaned against the back of the walls in his cell. Okay, it wasn't so much a cell so much as an interrogation room with bars, but same difference. He wasn't going anywhere, just in case.

"I take it the dragon golem is your voice?"

The Dragon-suit nodded. "If by that you mean an autonomous drone by which I interface with the world outside Canada, yes. I don't really have the opportunity to leave my home, and being able to simply transport one here to activate is much more convenient."

"So, your voice. Got it." He stood up. "From your surface thoughts, I get that you call yourself Dragon but aren't one, and you're here to examine me while the...President, I think you call him, gets here to see the projector activate."

Ah yes, surface thoughts. More than a bit alarming when he ended up nearly falling on the floor laughing when Armsmaster told him he couldn't possibly read minds. Then recited a bunch of random factoids about Armsmaster's day, guessed three numbers he was thinking (pi, Euler's constant, and zero), and then then proceeded to answer several questions before they were asked just to annoy him. A CAT scan was awaiting authorization just after this.

Dragon nodded. "Ambassador, actually, as we aren't sure what that thing actually does. Could be a bomb, which means…" A shrug. "Rather underhanded and even more cruel to him, but caution rules the day." I detected a little bitterness in here tone. "And the ambassador is more skilled with interpersonal social skills than the actual President anyway."

"Eh, good idea, given who made it." He sat down, tipping an imaginary hat. "Nex'rik Aeba, at your service. Before you ask, other races call mine dopplegangers, which given how we have no name for ourselves works just as well. We never saw the need to form our own culture given how we can simply mold ourselves into a member of another. Only time we ever really meet is if we're working on a job together or..." He smirked and wiggled his eyebrows.

"Vagaries of reproduction aside," Dragon said hurriedly, "you seem to have implied there are multiple sapient species, many of them likely humanoid given the limits of your shapeshifting. Is this correct?"

"I'm more amazed you _don't,_" Nex'rik said. "I was nearly shocked out of that damned blindfold when I realized that there are only humans and mutant humans on this world."

"Truth," said Armsmaster, off to the side. "...I think. It isn't calibrated to...dopplegangers."

"Which is why I'm here," I said. "Mr…?"

"Last name's Aeba, but please, call me Nex'rik. Aeba isn't even a surname, it's my imago - my casual identity when I don't feel like letting all my grey hang out."

A race of shapeshifters with favored faces in their daily life. Makes sense. "Mr. Nex'rik, could you please tell me what color the sky is, but not blue?"

"...A pleasant green with crimson clouds (lie)."

"He's telling the truth. About many races, I mean." Huh. Wondered why kind of...evolutionary…

Wait.

"I believe you said _only_ humans?" Dragon asked before I did.

"Well, yes. Unless you have a hidden population of my kind or changelings, I don't see any other races." Nex'rik paused. "Despite what the reptid people seem to think. Yuan-ti aren't _that_subtle, they're too egotistical for that."

Silence for a second. "...What?"

Dragon began haltingly. "Do you mean to imply...humans exist on your world?"

"Er, yes? No offense, but you guys breed like rabbits. Very clever, very stubborn rabbits who will do anything to survive, and very good at learning how. At least in the short term."

A very long pause.

Finally, Armsmaster broke the silence. "Well, I suppose we can finally slot Chimaera into the 'not an alien, just crazier than a shithouse owl' column."

Miss Militia nodded. "Her claims were...suspect. Frankly I'm a little relieved, the world still makes sense."

Nex'rik looked as caught off guard as I was. "Huh?"

"We believe your world - Aebrynis, I think - is not a different planet, at least the way you would define it," Dragon explained. "We actually think it's an alternate version of the world you're currently in, Earth Bet."

Oh.

Actually...that did make more sense, now that I thought about it. The theory was that my Azrai dreams was genetic encoding of the, ahem, God of Darkness' (and the more I thought about that title, the cornier it sounded) life story. If he appeared - or triggered - early in Aebrynis' history, and his own megalomanical (how else could you describe a person who capitalized first-person pronouns?) interpretation of events was in any way accurate, the world would look very, very strange.

Shame nobody told that to Nex'rik, though. "Alternate version? W-what?"

"Think of it this way - our world is a way yours could have turned out if something was different in its past, existing in, er….a different place than Aebrynis."

Nex'rik's eyes widened in shock…

Then a look of realization came to his face. "So _that's_ why this world lacks magic."

What.

The Protectorate members all were about as caught off guard as I was.

As one, all native Earthlings, including me, said as one, "Magic?"

"Twiddling fingers to control the weather, dark rituals meant to make the dead rise as armies, enchanting items, that kind of thing?" He shrugged. "Fact of life where I come from. May be how we dopplegangers came to be."

What.

Armsmaster cleared his throat rather loudly. "Magic? Excuse me, but would that happen to resemble parahuman powers like my own or-"

"If it makes you feel better, the way it's studied is a science," an amused Nex'rik interjected. "But unlike your parahumans, anyone non-blooded can use it, so long as they don't mind being illusionists-slash-diviners, or possibly a soul debt to the fae for witchcraft."

What.

"Fae? Witchcraft?...back up and explain a little. Please," Miss Militia said, clutching her head.

Nex'rik leaned forward, obviously proud of the fact he knew more about what was going on than we did. "I'm not the expert here, but a witch client of mine explained it that there's this plane, this alternate dimension that overlays our own, the Shadow World. There, physics and normal laws don't apply, reality is defined by thought, perception, and a force that is more like a living entity than an ironclad way the universe works."

I desperately willed the Medusas to taste the air, trying to convince myself he was trying to make fun of us. No dice.

What.

"Thing is, the Shadow World doesn't remain on its side. It wants to mingle with the mortal world when it can, so it constantly pushes against the wall between worlds, like a tide." To illustrate this, he brought his hands forward and began to tap the fingertips of one hand against the phalanges of another. "Normally, the wall is strong, but certain events can cause the Shadow World's tide to become stronger," he began to push constantly at that, "so that it breaks through and starts giving those of us who enjoy gravity making you fall instead of float a really bad day." The tapping fingers pushed through the "wall" hand, and started wiggling.

I saw all adult capes tense a little.

"Magic, on the other hand, is the art and science," he said as he separated his hands again, "of opening minute, predictable holes in the wall to make the Shadow World do what you want." He opened a small gap between two of his "wall" fingers and suck a fingertip through for a second before closing the gap.

Wha-actually, no, that sounded reasonable.

...Comparatively speaking.

"...Could you define the remark about witchcraft?" Dragon's tone of voice sounded somewhat more nervous than before.

"Two main different kinds of common magic. First, lesser magic involves drawing on the most ephemeral parts of the Shadow World, illusions and information, and thus the easiest to get through the wall. Nixes the need for divine blood, and they're actually better at their niche than wizards. Pisses off the latter to no end."

"Next, witchcraft, relies on contacting the fae, the beings who live in the Shadow World, and promise to further their particular focus of existence in the world in return for a primal link to the Shadow World in the form of an animal familiar. Think of it as the difference between making your own sword and buying another from a master blacksmith who is really stringent about what you use it for."

I felt the world stop spinning. Okay, confusing information, but I would mana-

Wait, wizards?

Dragon asked the question before I did. "You mentioned wizards. Mind explaining the difference between them and the other two? There may be a similarity between our parahumans and them."

"Well, first, wizards have to have a link to the Shadow World in their veins. This is either someone of elven-"

"Elven?" Wasn't sure who asked that. Could have been all of us.

"Well, Sidhelien, if you want to have your head up your ass about it. Nobody's sure where they came from, they're pretty close to mortal plane-native fae." He shrugged. "Have heads bigger than their ears, think they're the most wonderful creatures to ever exist. Still enjoy sleeping with humans, despite the fact they blame you for not being the Rulers of Everything anymore."

I darkly wondered if it wasn't the other way around. I knew what happened to native populations displaced by empires.

"Any, those of elven descent, like Kursor before she became the Chimaera (may her journey to the Abyss be long and painful), or with divine blood either inherited or stolen like…"

He gestured at me.

"My savior, actually. I believe I've forgotten to thank you in the confusion, so thank you."

…

...  
**WHAT.**

"They're a lot more versatile, have access to magic that can affect entire countries - summoning legions of the undead, changing the weather to fiery apocalypse, that sort of thing. You don't want to get into a fight with a nation with a wizard-regent."

...I honestly wasn't sure what precisely caused my mind to undergo a systems reboot. The fact that Nex'rik was so utterly _casual_ about this, the fact that, somewhere in the vast array of Earths, there existed a world where constant invasion by an alternate dimension made of magic was complete normal, or the fact that I was apparently a dormant, female form of Gandalf the Grey.

After about five minutes, Armsmaster finally spoke up. "...You do realize that Chimaera could have done something to your mind that made you buy into her delusions, correct? Or are simply mistaken and you speak of normal para beings?"

_Please let that be the case,_ his strained tone left unasked. And in that, he and I agreed, for if the Shadow World, a perpetual alien invader, existed in_ one_ alternate Earth...

"Ah, actually that was probably the reason I was chosen by her."

Reaching into Flashbang's costume, Nex'rik pulled out a tiny wooden sculpture of a sparrow. "A gift from that witch client I told you about. Not a magician myself, but I know how to read the instructions."

He flipped open the wings of the sparrow.

The eyes of the sculpture glowed an eerie blue, and for a moment, it looked like a living sparrow.

Then the wings snapped shut.

And an equally blue portal appeared directly behind him.

"Before you ask, I'm not risking the Shadow World to run away from some fine hosts. That would be stupid, both for my reputation and my health. I'm doing this so you can see for yourself. Whatever you do there, be polite."

I heard something between a frustrated sigh and strangulation from Armsmaster. "I hate it when certain theories are right…" he muttered as he crushed the bridge of his nose.

* * *

"In all actuality, Taylor, this is likely a failure to translate into English properly."

I blinked. _That_ was unexpected.

...On the other hand, I could have been attacked by a herd of pink elephants singing a marching tune, and things would make just as much sense as they did now.

The interview had ended at that point, the Protectorate trio to confer about this new revelation. I, on the other hand, needed to sit down on something rather comfy.

So, I was apparently a living conduit to an alien dimension, inhabited by fairies, that wanted to invade conventional space and turn everything into a live reenactment of surrealist paintings. At least Nex'rik didn't seem to think it was much to be concerned about.

On the other hand, his race could have been a product of said alien dimension, so of course_ he_ wouldn't mind.

Could this be why Glaistig Uaine went mad, I wondered? Did her power cause her to merge with an actual fae, and it took control of her? Worse, did the two identities of the girl who became the Fairy Queen and the fae merge, and her insanity was a product of never knowing who she really was?

Was that what happened to _Chimaera?_

And would the same thing happen to me one day?

I tried not to think about that last bit too hard.

Miss Militia breaking my train of thought before I did was thankful. Otherwise my mind would probably invent possible stories involving being trapped in my own mind while an evil fairy marveled at the feeling of my dad's heart in my talons.

"Sorry?"

"Dragon and Armsmaster think that since the divergence point between Earth Bet and Aebrynis happened long before we developed the idea of magic being science we haven't nailed down yet. Based on Nex'rik's analogies, his world still uses swords and more primitive technology, implying that it went a completely different path of development."

"Bottom line is, we think his world's researchers discovered where parahuman powers come from in the first place early in their technological development, and then their following tech development was built on that." she continued. "Since the Shadow World is so obviously different from the reality we know, they came to separate the idea of mundane technology from it into what they call magic, both because the supernatural was still an accepted part of daily life, and...um..." She materialized her gun. "It's an understandable conclusion. You don't call a car engine a clock, after all, even if they're both machines, and our capes are so different from his non-wizard magicians he doesn't think we're the same thing."

I mulled it over in my head. If parahumans in general were conduits, and Aebrynis simply developed a way to artificially replicate them…

...I suddenly felt both very relieved and very silly.

True, this wasn't a confirmation of my sanity, far from it, but as far as I could tell most capes found their general level of instability and stayed there. The Shadow World was still something to be alarmed about, but at least it was something that Earth Bet had a lot of experience with already, even if our boundary was a hell of a lot stronger than Aebrynis'.

In fact, this was probably going to be a massive relief to humanity in general, now that I thought of it. With that same discovery of artificial cape powers having been made once, it could probably be done again over here. With the ability to create new capes, however generic they were, came the ability for normal people to stand up to villains more easily, not to mention easily replicable Tinkertech like that bird of his. Yes, it would probably take a decade or so, but things looked like they could turn out fairly well.

Of course there was also the fae of our parallel who would likely turn hostile at the sudden intrusion or the possibility that whatever dimensional wall that prevented it from intruding would weaken (given how Armsmaster reacted, he was probably fully aware of that, too), so I willed myself to not get my hopes up. I didn't want to aggravate my already poor luck by tempting it.

"So...I'm a normal cape?" I said, not really having anything else to say.

"Not...quite."

I looked over at the source of the mildly synthesized Canadian voice. "Huh? From the sound of things I just happen to have a power that's native to another, rather strange alternate Earth-"

"You _do_, but the issue is, your power is also strange," Armsmaster finished for Dragon, obviously trying to find the words without offending me.

"...And this makes it different from other monstrous powers how?"

"Because it does not have the biological structure of a native parahuman power. Beyond…no offense, beyond the obvious, I mean." Dragon said.

"None taken." Frankly given Dragon's near scentless smell, it was hard to take offense from her to begin with.

It was amazing how a mechanical wyvern could look perturbed. "I'm going to tell you you an obscure fact, Taylor; parahumans have extra lobes in their brains."

Okay,_ that_ was something Dr. Adler didn't tell me.

Even Armsmaster caught on, or at least was told this was going to happen by the much more socially adept cape. "We don't advertise it, as we already have one villainous Tinker obsessed with its structure. Her name is Bonesaw."

Ah. "All is forgiven," I said.

"In any case, the extra lobe, the corona gemma, is usually differently shaped from parahuman to parahuman. The only commonalities between coronas is that it only appeared _after_ their owners' respective triggers, and its location in the normal structure of the brain. We assume that it is entirely devoted to control of the power, and working off the data Mr. Nex'rik gave us, likely the interface between a parahuman's mind and the Shadow World."

I nodded. "Okay. So, what makes mine different enough to be alarming?"

"You don't have one," Armsmaster stated bluntly.

Both Miss Militia and I stiffened. "What?" we said in unison.

"The neurologists didn't notice it at first, because of the network of nerves that connects your human brain to the Medusas'," Dragon continued. "However, upon closer examination, the nerves are _all_ the neurological modification you have."

"Dr. Adler's staff thought it was strange, but they assumed that, given the difference in structure between coronas, that the nerve network and Medusa brains were your particular iteration of the lobe," Armsmaster explained. "In all truth they were also likely rushing their report to avoid angering her after Dr. Bixby was publicly fired-"

Dragon cleared her throat, a sound enhanced by the size of her suit. "...and this is entirely irrelevant to the topic, so I will let Dragon explain," Armsmaster finished.

"However, during their autopsies, we also found that lack of a true lobe was shared by Chimaera and Sphinx," Dragon finished. "The Sphinx's brain has a similar neural network and enlarged normal lobes that enhanced his sense of smell and allowed his more feline reflexes to function, so it was also thought to be a variant corona. It was only after I examined Chimaera's brain and, forgive my intrusion but I was ordered to do so, retrieved your records that I realized that same neural net and mild alteration of normal parts of the brain was a commonality between all of you. Not anything that was clearly a gemma in sight."

I mulled this over. "So...you're saying that, er, awnsheghlen brain upgrades work differently than native parahumans."

"That's what I theorized at first. Then I took a look at the blood samples of both deceased awnsheghlen."

A viewscreen on the suit's chest turned on, revealing what looked to be a photo of...some kind of neuron? It looked strange. Almost like the ends had blobs on them.

"This variety of cell was found in high numbers in both Chimaera and Sphinx's bloodstreams. It is not a nerve cell, because it was found free-floating and and apparently alive in small numbers in both bloodstreams. Those odd shapes on the ends of its telon-sorry, its branches? Those are stem cells, the building blocks of other cells."

It took me a second to catch on.

"...You think those things are responsible for the mutations awnsheghlen have?"

"At a running guess, yes. They also probably are responsible for the connection that, ahem, wizards have to the Shadow World," Armsmaster finished. "That dimension is also what probably what gives the, er...let's call them Azrai neurons for now because I'm awful at Latin and what name I'd come up with likely doesn't describe them very well once we understand them better, the energy they need to function. Dragon dissected one of them and she couldn't find a way they process energy from the bloodstream."

Miss Militia was nodding now. "That's...actually very interesting. Any theories on why Chimaera thought awnsheghlen powers went to their killer?"

"Blood contamination, I would assume," Dragon said. "The killer absorbs a few...Azrai neurons from the blood of the dying awnsheghlen, and that shock of energy I saw after Taylor killed the Sphinx is likely a mechanism Azrai made to ensure they would be jump...started...after...…colonization….."

A very long pause, as we suddenly remembered the_ other_ awnsheghlen-killer.

"Pardon my asking, but did a similar visual display occur with Ms. Dallon?"

The rest of us nodded.

The viewscreen quickly flickered to a TRANSMISSION IN PROGRESS screen even as Armsmaster and Miss Militia reached for their radio.

"Brockton Bay PRT Security," the voice at the other end said.

"Dragon. Has Panacea left the building?"

"With her father and her sister. It was agreed that she would be more comfortable at home. Why, is there something wrong?"

"Send a medical team, stat. We believe she may have been exposed to a biological agent."

"Roger," the voice said before clicking off.

Please, let them get there before she starts to mutate, I thought. I did _not_ want to know what would happen if you added mutant neurological cells to a parahuman nervous system, especially when the parahuman in question was already nearly catatonic.

* * *

**A/N: Mid-Arc Interlude next, then one more chapter and then end of Arc interlude. Plans subject to change as the writer's spirit takes me.**

**Also, I'm crossing over science fiction and fantasy. I pretty much have to give some (pseudo)scientific common ground between the two. You don't like it, I refer you to_ E__xpedition to the Barrier Peaks_, where this kind of blending of science and fantasy happened in D&D. Written by Gary Gygax himself. Please excuse any bad biology; think of it as the result of Dragon only having five minutes to look over the data and not having a lot of info to go on.**

**Also, Nex'rik is actually wrong on several counts. He's forgotten about the existence of Bards, and doesn't realize that ley lines flow from sites of natural beauty. He does know you need ley lines for country-affecting Realm Spells, but he didn't think that was relevant to the conversation. Despite what you may think, though, he's right about wizard powers being genetic in Birthright, they're more like 3.5 Sorcerers there.**


	15. Chapter 14 (Interlude 2)

**A/N: Boy, I'm actually a little relieved that the next logical interlude is Panacea at her depths. She's not actually that hard a character to write, just turn off your ability to feel positive emotions and add self-loathing.**

**...Yeah, I'm also glad one quarter of her issues is now dead. I think I'd turn into her if I tried to keep this up for a while.**

* * *

**Interlude 2: A Fearful Serpent**

* * *

Plant matter wasn't palatable anymore, and the prey was too fast.

That was what the monster had decided. The prey, while abundant, was simply too smart, too quick, too experienced with running.

The pain in the monster's belly was overwhelming, compounded by the fact that the winged creature had eaten plants before that discovery. Oh dear sweet merciful_ everything_, was that a bad plan.

Still, it was probably a good thing for the slithering, squamous beast that the hunger had put survival instinct in charge of the inhuman being's brain.

After all, if that were the case, the still-human mind of Amy Dallon may have had time to think about the strangeness of this place she found herself in, half-mad from starvation, and subsequently panic. Or will herself to starve to death, lost forever in in the everchanging world where illusion and truth were one and the same. Just desserts for a monster like her, one that now looked like what she always was.

As it was, the more primal mind had taken over. What part of Amy not transformed into a predator was cycling through her human life, trying to keep from being absorbed into the desperate, starving beast.

* * *

**17 Hours Before Plane Shift**

Staring at nothing, Amy had decided, was a good way to avoid thinking.

Not avoiding thinking about..._that,_ not thinking. Not thinking sounded good right now.

Because if Amy thought, that would mean she would be thinking about either that...or her reaction to that.

Unfortunately, not thinking still allowed it to play back in her mind. Constantly.

_She was crying. The monster had made her sister - her beautiful, strong, caring, and utterly pure sister - cry._

_And she was mocking her sister for crying. She was reveling in the fact that her sister was crying. Her brain's pleasure centers were alight like Chirstmas lights, her adrenaline rushing. Chimaera was_ getting off _on the fact that Vic was crying._

_A terrible clarity came over Panacea's mind. A terrible clarity, where there was no fear, no restraint, not even any anger. Only hate._

_The forearm's muscles were pulled out into the upper arm, rendering it useless, and allowing her to escape._

_She didn't, though. There was a score to settle._

_The feel of a windpipe, the rest of the throat ignored. Her hand constricted around it, swimming through her flesh like it was water._

_The monster couldn't win. Not in any way._

_"Medicines come from poisons in the natural world, you know," said Amy. The only thing preventing her from saying that in the tone of savage joy she felt was that she was too focused on her hate to express emotions._

_Now, to get rid of her altogether. She was after Adrasteia's heart, was she?_

_Panacea appreciated irony._

_She looked back up in the monster's face. Yes, show fear. Show that you're just as weak as…._

_There was no life in her eyes._

_Slowly, sanity returned. Slowly, Amy realized what she had just done._

_Among the expected emotions, though -shock, guilt, horror- was something that would have been surprising, at least if you weren't Amy Dallon._

_Relief._

"Ames?"

The absolute worst possible person to break her not thinking put a hand on her.

"Ames, I'm here. It's going to be okay."

_No it won't,_ the viciousness that was always there snarled at her sister. Amy kept a lid on it though. The person wasn't completely devoured by the monster yet.

Her body interpreted this by turning away and tucking her arms and legs together.

"Amy, please. Just let me talk to you-"

"Go away," she murmured.

Victoria backed off, somewhat. Good. That meant she couldn't be hurt.

This was how it started, wasn't it? She gave into her rage and anger, and because of that, her control over her power finally slipped. It slipped because **she** slipped, and destroyed someone out of hatred. More than that, she _enjoyed_ it.

If it was just about Brandish, it would be one thing. But it wasn't - it was about Victoria. The focus of Amy's warped affections. Her _incestuous possession._

It was only a matter of time before she turned that into something more than a metaphor. The rock was rolling.

Maybe it was better if-

Panacea almost flinched as the full force of her sister's aura hit her. Just because she was immune to casual use did not mean she couldn't feel the full force of it if she was incredibly emotional. Or trying for maximum.

In this case, it was affection, calm, and protectiveness.

"Amy, I'm sorry it got like this. I miss Mom too, and undergoing a secondary trigger like that, shortly before killing someone has to be utterly horrible."

Amy looked up from the bed for the first time, to her sister's face.

For the second time in recent memory, Victoria was crying. But the expression on her face wasn't pain, not really.

It was fear for Amy.

"But no matter what happens to you, you'll always be my sister."

It took a second for Amy to realize she was crying herself.

* * *

In the Shadow World, the beast that was once Panacea tasted the air, desperately seeking food that was slower than the rest.

A bit of the strange smell (the taste of illusion, she had decided) almost seemed alive. Scratch that, it _was_ alive, but no meat. Only the illusion of meat.

Pain.

Very vicious, very physical illusion of meat.

Amy wheeled around to face the threat.

A pair of too-human eyes widened. Not the threat's.

Before her was a warped version of her human form. Older, more attractive, a lot more provocatively dressed. Plants withered about her, and illusionary people broke out in horrifying boils as she passed them. Following dutifully behind the not-her was a not-Victoria, eyes vacant and adoring of her mistress.

"_Intruder_," the false Amy hissed, warping the plantlife into weapons.

The monstrous Amy drew back, hissing a wordless warning as she coiled defensively.

_"You can't run from yourself,"_ the false Amy whispered, standing aside to allow the Victoria clone to go before her.

The monstrous Amy glanced around, warily looking for any way to escape.

A part of her heard the rest, and reached out to touch the mind of the not-Vic.

Or rather (horrifyingly), an extension of-

Wait.

The beast poked her head out, too confused to be scared. **I want_ her,_ not her body.**

The entire scene rippled before the false Glory Girl vanished.

A weakness. Amy searched the being for more thoughts.

And right there, in the false thoughts around the alien core of the living illusion, was a large flaw.

**Our real father is Birdcaged. You can't possibly have ever worked with him. No escape.**

The false Amy flickered like a mirage, attempting to counteract the logic in that statement and thus prove she existed.

No dice. In a flash of blue, the being's existence unraveled and its mind dissipated.

The part of Amy not focused on surviving chuckled darkly at the irony.

* * *

**15 Hours Before Planeshift**

Amy supposed she should be happy her sister went to see her before the unconscious Dean. Then again, that could easily be that she couldn't help her sister's boyfriend until she was capable of moving from her bed.

That Victoria had not asked Amy to heal Dean did not occur to her.

Nor did Victoria ask her to wait with her for him to come out of his unconscious state after she was done repairing the physical damage to the Wards, but that was to be expected.

Absolutely nobody asked her to heal the shapeshifter currently being given a thorough psychological evaluation, as per Master/Stranger protocols, either. He seemed rather...amused.

And very strange, biologically speaking. Almost like his entire body was a chameleon, even down to his bone structure. He even had a pair of non-functional female genitals hidden in his abdomen, presumably for imitating the other gender.

But what mind would give rise to such a species (Amy doubted that kind of biology could be anything but created deliberately) was a mystery for another time.

Slowly, the boy's eyes opened, before breaking into a pained grin. "Hey Vic...didn't know you were actually an angel…"

Victoria said nothing, only cracked a grin before looking away.

As much as it pained Amy to admit it, Dean deserved his superhero name. His eyes suddenly grew aware with alarm. "Vic? Something wrong?"

"I….she…" Victoria began to cry.

_Our mom is dead. Chimaera's monsters got her,_ Panacea thought.

Then she thought _where's that buzzing noise coming from?_

Gallant looked utterly shocked. "Oh God. Oh God. She's-I'm so sorry."

"About the bu-" Amy began, stupidly. Not so stupidly she finished that thought, but…

How did Dean know? His empathy wasn't that strong.

Victoria didn't seem to realize this though, instead going into a full wail of sorrow before collapsing into her boyfriend's chest.

Not wanting to upset Dean and thus her sister with her jealousy, Amy respectfully left.

And walked into a wall of chatter, it seemed like.

_She's been crying all day._

_Poor girl. Both of them_

_I liked Brandish, too._

_I wonder when dinner is._

Rage blossomed in Amy's heart. She spun around to the source of the last voice.

"Victoria just lost her mother, and _you're worried about_...lunch?"

An old, infirm man, his mind lost to age, whimpered and drew back. His nurse was nearly as startled.

"Oh God...I didn't mean…"

The medic stepped back before running off, ashamed of herself.

It was only a few minutes later she realized that she never actually heard the voices. Not with her ears, at any rate.

That same few minutes later, an unfortunate doctor passing by her room suddenly started to believe in ghosts. He swore he heard an insane laugh, the kind that a broken mind mistakes for crying, even though no one else did.

As if she wasn't already a monster, now she was _the Simurgh._

* * *

Back to the search. Amy tasted the air again.

Yes, that was definitely meat. Smelled of civilization. Good. Lots of prey there.

The monster slithered off, following her tongue.

A floating river apparently took offense at this at attempted to smother her, flowing around her in a white tide of rapid waters and beginning to constrict, a slow-motion splash.

The monster hissed a little at this, before taking to the skies, the river flooding nothing but empty space.

Her mind immediately went elsewhere. Perhaps her poison with a little flesh shaping could make it quick?

* * *

**10 Hours Before Plane Shift**

"Sis! Sis you okay!?" Almost immediately the door broke open, wood spraying everywhere, revealing Victoria.

"Fine! Fine...just a stupid nightmare…" Normally Amy would have followed up that plead with a silent prayer for her sister to not notice she was standing up and not the bed. But caution about her newfound telepathy won out.

Victoria paused for a moment, full wakefulness returning to her. One could hear the cogs in her mind restarting.

"...Do you want to sleep with me? Like we used to?" she asked, sounding exactly as awkward as the question did.

Internally, the healer weighed the benefits and faults of this. On the one hand, this probably would make her feel a lot safer when she really, really needed it. On the other, it wouldn't exactly be innocent anymore, and Vic might pick up on that. More importantly, Amy wasn't exactly sure when her..._upgrades_ would end, and Vic would feel those if they grew in while touching her.

"No...no...I'm okay. We'll talk about it in the morning…"

Victoria looked rather skeptical about that, "O-kayyy...If you ever change your mind, the door's open." A pause. "For the next week or so, I don't know how quick the repairmen are."

Both sisters tried to laugh at the lame joke before Vic went back to her own room.

As soon as she heard the other Dallon's door close, Amy darted into the bathroom and shut the door to prevent light from escaping.

Light on. Mouth open.

She tried not to scream again.

Yes, those were_ fangs._ Long snake fangs that otherwise could be retracted and hidden. On a whim, Amy urged them to see if they had what snakes were known for.

There was a brief squeezing sensation at the roof of her mouth, and clear fluid leaked from them. Her ability to analyze biology immediately set to work as the venom stopped being a part of her body. Neurotoxin, deadly and mercifully quick.

Amy though back to the tongues of lighting that licked her. Chimaera's revenge on her killer, she guessed. The person who slew the monster was fated to become exactly like her. A quick accounting of her own cells proved it - she could sense the weird, stem cell-covered neurons she had felt in the shapeshifter and Adrasteia being produced from a colony in her heart, a mass of dividing and mingling mutant cells that even now were working on reshaping the flesh shaper.

By all rights, she should have turned herself in, right then and there. But that would likely result in her being locked away, unable to heal people. Unacceptable.

So she started planning on how to conceal her mutations as long as possible. She willed the fangs to retract...

Which would cause her to look like she was missing her top canines. Damn. Well, she could always fake them being knocked out-

An itch on her shoulder. Already dreading, she adjusted her gown-

Huh. Those rainbow feathers were actually kind of pretty.

So were the blue scales under them.

But they were still feathers and scales.

Numbly, Amy went back to her bed, put her head under the pillow, and screamed as silently as she could.

* * *

Not here.

Food was not here.

Amy's tongue told her food was here, but she neither saw nor touched food. If anything, this part of not-Earth was rather barren. Even of plant life.

A strangely human cry of frustration and despair came from the monster, who buried her head in the ground.

What was she going to do_ now?_ She didn't have enough calories for _another_ day-

Wait. The smell of the earth...the smell wasn't like this not-Earth…

On a whim, the monster nuzzled the ground away, revealing…

Blue. The same blue she saw when she crossed here.

The smell was coming from the blue.

Silently thanking whatever gods were listening, Amy willed herself to push through the wall again, and with a flash of blue, she was gone.

* * *

**2 Minutes Before Planeshift**

In retrospect, this should have been obvious.

"Ms. Dallon? Ms. Amy Dallon? We don't want to hurt you, just please come out the door."

She didn't deserve to be happy, even if it was on a time limit before she looked (and probably acted) more like a feathery snake than a human.

"Ms. Dallon! We believe you've been exposed to a biological agent even your power can't fight off…"

Amy tuned out the PRT agents knocking on the room door. It would have been nice though. She had read somewhere that grief bought families closer together. Would be nice for Mark to not be a complete stranger to her anymore.

Oh well. Nothing to do except stare at nothing until they came through.

"...I'm sorry, but you can't-"

"No, no, please let me try, she's my sis, she'll listen to me."

The stare was broken as her heart stopped.

"We're afraid you might be exposed-"

"I have a suit, too! I'll just go in, calm her down and-"

Amy's perception of time slowed.

If Victoria came in here, she would see the growing feathers, now on both arms. Her fangs were extending from agitation.

In other words, Victoria would see a monster. And Amy knew how her sis reacted to monsters. See Adrasteia.

She _couldn't_ know.

"Okay, Ames? I'm going to come in there in five…"

But the PRT was surrounding the house, she couldn't get out through the window.

"Four...three…"

Nowhere to hide in here, nothing within reach to hide the feathers.

"Two…"

Thus she pushed up against the wall further, feeling it stretch-

Huh?

"One!"

A sensation of something being torn, a flash of blue light, and-

She was hallucinating.

There was no way that waterfall could be flowing _up_ as well as down. Or there be a waterfall there. Much less the cliff's face be curved in an elliptic, non-Euclidean slope and still seem natural.

Slowly, she began to laugh, helplessly. Well, if this was her delusion, at least she didn't have to deal with Victoria's reaction. Actually, this place looked kind of nice-

Her blood was on fire. It wasn't painful yet but she could feel the mutant neuron-like cells suddenly start to divide exponentially. One is two is four is sixteen...

Pain.

Bones shifted, organs reconfigured, entirely new muscles were constructed by the mutant cells, and Amy barely registered the tearing of her undershirt as she expanded.

A scream of pain that gradually deepened into a pained roar. Arms developing extra joints and losing fingers. Legs fusing.

After what felt like millenna, the pain subsided. It took a second before Amy registered the agonized, deep breaths were her own.

A second later, her stomach started screaming at her as her new muscles began to break down. A quick examination of her new biology told her why - her transformation took almost every free floating calorie in her body to complete. It was simply too fast for her biology to balance out with cravings and such.

She needed to replace those calories. And quickly.

And so did Amy's mind become beastial as well. Her brain decided that there were more pressing matters than thought.

* * *

If Amy had human vocal chords, she would have laughed in relief. As it was, she settled for roaring in triumph.

The two-legged animals screamed and ran. No matter, she was fast and strong.

Right in front of her, in fact, was an entire row of prey, all neatly arranged and huddled together.

Why, one of the two-legs was holding out its hand! Prey being presented to her!

Salivating in a very un-reptilian manner, Amy lunged.

* * *

In retrospect, Sheldon Bixby decided, taking a job at a supermarket was a bad plan. Supermarkets were in the Top Ten Favorite Supervillain Targets anyway, right after McMansions and the Department of Motor Vehicles office. He honestly thought that was a perk, given how the monotony of unemployment and odd jobs could be more easily broken.

That was before the_ giant fucking snake_ grabbed the roast chicken out of his hand, tore open the packaging with its fangs, gulped it down whole, and began to repeat the process with everything else in the meat section, favoring whatever fatty cuts were there. And birds, for some reason.

And knocking down the aisles with a pair of absolutely enormous wings.

Congratulating himself on his quick thinking in giving the snake the chicken, Bixby quietly ran towards the employee exit. If he got out in the confusion, maybe he wouldn't have to clean-

"Bixby, it's safe in my office! C'mon man!" A strong arm grabbed him around the shoulder.

And with that, all of Bixby's (petty) hopes and dreams were dashed by a well-intentioned boss.

* * *

So much stupid prey. Unmoving prey. Fresh prey.

Amy had found Paradise.

Yes, those shells were annoying, but so much meat awaited her underneath them! Juicy meat, high-calorie meat…life-saving meat…

Amy could not be happier in this state. Already the pain was subsiding, her mind was clearing, she could swear her scales were developing a healthier...shine…

Scales?

The beast receded to the depth's of Amy's mind as she remembered exactly what had happened over the past day or so. Comprehended exactly what she had become.

Slowly, dreading, the great serpent turned her power upon her own cells once again, surveying how inhuman her body became.

Even her _cells_ were only recognizable as human due to the genetic code twining through each of them.

A piteous cry came from the snake before it vanished the same way it came - in an explosion of blue light.

* * *

If one was passing by the north end of the feature that gave Brockton Bay its name, one would have heard a splash. This was not too strange, given the rather large fish the Tinker Benthos had seeded the bay with during his "vacation" from Australia a couple years before (he was not a fan of certain oil companies whose tankers were parked there at the time). Nor would one pay that much attention to it, as the fish only ate toxic chemicals. This resulted in about the only advantage Brockton Bay had over other cities in scenery.

The sound of quiet sobbing that followed as Amy's reflection returned to the smooth waters was much less noticeable.

Slowly, the winged serpent curled up under her bridge in a miserable coil, despite her best efforts at remaining straight. At least she still seemed warm-blooded from looking at her metabolic processes, so she wouldn't hibernate in the cold winter air. Just freeze.

_Now_ what was she going to do?

The homeless man she had inadvertently scared off proved it; she was a monster now. A creature out of myth, fit for a dashing hero to slay. Nobody would want her help like this. Victoria would more likely believe she had eaten her human form rather than become this...thing.

And the psychological effects! Chimaera could have been a perfectly sane, normal individual before she became..._that_. With the darkness in her own genes, who was to say Amy wouldn't become _worse?_ Especially given what her power was truly capable of?

Staring at the water, Amy's stomach lurched as she realized another way to protect the world from herself.

The only way, before Chimaera's madness made her enjoy the screams and suffering.

Slowly, hesitantly, the snake slithered into the sea.

* * *

….Peaceful. The water was clean, and peaceful.

Amy focused on the cold, purifying sense of the water. Actually, no, she wasn't that cold. Scales protected her warmth, it seemed.

Her eyes also weren't nearly as sensitive as they were as a human. Not unlike those of a water moccasin or sea snake, she guessed. Her wings obviously weren't adapted to swimming, but she was...buoyant enough.

Not that it mattered.

Hesitantly, Amy began to try and exhale. Attempting to trick her survival instinct, she embraced the sense of the water….

The feeling of fish swimming by…

The rocky seabed….

The large, scaly thing that brushed her wing….

…the fuck?

Amy was snapped out of her trance, just in time to see the green jaws that opened like an ivory flower-

The water fell away as a screaming medic attempted to instinctively take to the air-

And choked on the water. The jaws caught her in a tight hold…

Amy waited for the pain to begin.

And waited.

And waited.

...No, these teeth held her gingerly, being careful to not cut.

Ah, okay. So she was being taken to feed the owner's young then, probably. Alive.

She passed out. Her last thought was realizing she probably could have shaped her way out.

Shit.

* * *

Amy wasn't expecting to come to at all, much less on something comfy.

For a moment, Amy almost went into delirious joy about that all being a bad dream. She laugh-roared in relief as she lifted her wings in celebration.

Wait. Fuck.

At least she was safe. If in a rather lot of pain. From the feeling of the "bed," it actually seemed like a bunch of them had been thrown together with pillows haphazardly.

As her eyes adjusted, Amy saw she had been right in this guess. Then her gaze was drawn to the rest of the room.

This place was a salvager's paradise. Bits of sunken ships and various waterlogged items covered the walls of the cave, each lovingly sorted and displayed. In one corner, various items from wrecked bridges. In another, a stack of shipping containers, with their contents.

"So, the lass finally awakes."

Startled, Amy spun to face the source of the accented, deep voice.

There was a _clang_ as she hit one of the bulkheads on display in her efforts to fly back.

An enormous sea serpent, straight out of a medieval map (specifically the part labeled "Here Be Dragons") looked down upon her. Mottled emerald and sapphire covered its hide, giving it the air of the primal majesty of nature. Completing the regal appearance was a fan-like fin that ran down its back like a crown. Two great eyes, brimming with intellect, bore into her.

Amy, of course, did not notice the beauty of the beast. She was too busy watching her life flash before her eyes while attempting to shrink by coiling tight enough.

"Oi, calm yourself, Miss! I mean ye no harm."

Amy's thought process (_I'm dead. I'm deadImdeaddead died I'm dead_) came to a screeching halt. That thing could _speak!?_

…And was male, given the sound of its - uh, his - voice.

Slowly, Amy's head poked itself out of her coil. She tried to speak, only for it to come out as a terrified hiss. No dice.

...Except that illusionary_ thing_ had heard her, didn't it? Um, how did she speak then, how did she mind-speak to Gallant…

**Please don't eat me,**she thought, willing her captor (?) to hear her. Short and to the point.

There was a buzzing sound in her mind as the monster chuckled. "Eh, if we be speakin' of sapient prey, I not be one to go for yer planet's. Given the kinds of things ye eat I be needn' ipecac if I be not unloadin' bilge from both aft and bow from both directions, if ye get me point." A laugh.

**My...planet? ...Wait.** Amy uncoiled and slithered out.** You're...one of them, aren't you? An..._awnsheghlen_?**

"I not be an _awnsheghlien_, on the basis I be neither an adjective nor multiple people. The proper term be _awnshegh_, and that I be. As are ye now, Miss."

A brief pause. Then: **Oh.**

It was blatantly obvious, in retrospect. Chimaera had talked a good game about taking her powers through strength, and Amy had only started noticing the changes after Chimaera's death. Given how Adrasteia mutated after killing _another_ apparent _awnshegh_, it only made sense that she now had Chimaera's power.

Both serpents sat silently for a second, before Amy politely coughed. **Um, Amy Dallon, alias Panacea.**

"Garrilien Suliere, and I also be known as the Seadrake. But if the lass would be so kind to call me Garril instead, would ye?"

**Pleasure to meet you.** Another pause, as Amy considered her words.** Er, what were you doing in that wharf, anyway?**

"Huntin'. The fish there be giant. Good eatin'."

Another pause. How do you speak to someone who just stopped your suicide?

Eventually, Garril broke the silence. "Er...pardon me askin', but was there any reason you decided to inhale the ocean? I be havin' both gills and lungs, but is there any reason ye be testin' to see if ye have them ye self?"

_He's playing dumb_, Amy realized. She didn't need her mind reading for that.** I...don't want to talk about it.**

"Okay, no need to be rushin'."

A thought struck Amy. **Um, were you...friends with...her?**

Garril caught on to who "she" was immediately. "By the Abyss and the Winter Witch, _no!_ The Chimaera's death be a service to the universe, that it be!"

**Okay...any reason you're here instead of...your own world?**

"...Following my crewmates. But I be left to my collection in this cave, for the moment. It be gettin' rather lonely at times."

Yes, Amy supposed. That did sound kind of-

Wait, crewmates? **There are other_ awnsheghlen_?**

"Ye be pronouncin' it wrong. Well, not _pronouncin'_, but the way you_ think_ it be pronounced...In any case, it's _awnsheghlien_, draw out the 'e' sound. But yes. Not the Sphinx, but I be havin' other refugees of Cerilia with me as well."

One could almost hear the_ tick-tick-tick_ of gears going off in Amy's skull. **...Can you introduce me?**

Garril was silent for a few seconds as he looked Amy up and down. "...Ye be lookin' for a place to go after ye grew scales and wings, ye be?"

Amy looked extremely downcast. **Where else is there?**

"I may be alone in me cave, but I be no hermit. I know ye have a family to go back to."

Irrational anger bloomed in Amy's chest

**Oh yeah, because _Victoria_ is going to be _so thrilled_ upon learning the fact her sister's a monster! Everyone is going to be _so happy_ to be healed by the_ giant snake!_ No, I think I'll slum it with the monsters, thank you! At least I don't have to pretend that everything's fine!**

The fury abated, and Amy saw Garril's face suddenly become an all too human expression of pain.

**Oh God, I didn't mean that.**

"Yes, ye did."

**...I'll make it up to you somehow, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking straight-**

"Ye weren't callin' _me_ a monster, I ken, though." The great sea beast looked thoughtful. "And somehow, I be doubtin' ye got that opinion of ye self from a few scales and parrot feathers. There be somethin' you wish to speak of, lass?"

**...No.** _Can't show weakness, a heroine showing weakness unloads that weakness on others…_

"Like, for example, not installin' a filter between telepathy an' ye private thoughts?"

Guh. Telepathy willed off.

"Come now, miss. I ain't havin' any reason or ability to spread nasty rumors about ye on the mainland. Ye have an ear with me."

Amy glanced around, trying to think. On the one hand, she was about to load her problems on a stranger…

But on the other, there was only one problem he would judge, because everyone judged that.

It would be a dark judgement, but she needed to let all of this go before it made her try and kill herself again.

**...Did you know I'm adopted?**

* * *

"So, ye think yer blood family makes ye a villain."

Amy nodded, having long since discovered her new body still had tear ducts.

"And ye think ye are doomed to become even worse than Lady-Talks-Like-A-Drunken-Rat."

At some point, Garril had climbed onto the cave shore, listening intently. He had leveled his head with Amy's body, laying it on the ground.

"...I got nothin'. Sera be hit by your afterbirth, ye life sucks more than a starvin' whirlpool. Sera be the goddess of luck, by the way."

**You know, I wouldn't be surprised. Frankly it would explain..._everything!_** She laughed, a bitter, hollow sound that was made even more so by the hissing under it.** And you know? Even the _one fucking thing_ that makes it all better is tainted too! You know my sister? Victoria? Glory Girl? The_ one_ person in my _entire family_ who gives a rat's ass if I live or die? You know how this rotted, genetically cursed brain of mine interprets that!?**

"I already be dreadin' the answer."

**Picture this: A lonely, neglected girl, saved by a blonde bombshell and nursed back to something resembling happiness. Scene from a tween romance, or…?**

It took a second for Garril to catch on. "Oh. _Ohhhh._"

**The only reason it isn't fucking _incest_ is because I'm not her blood sibling! I'm just a warped, sick...twisted…**

Amy collapsed to the ground.

**...broken….**

Then sobbed into it..

**….monster….**

There was nothing except Amy crying into the ground for a minute or two.

Her misery was interrupted by Garril nuzzling her.

"Oy, give blame where it be due."

She shot up. **Sorry?**

"If ye need to hate someone for the state of ye mind, blame Carol! From the sound of it she have a heart made of stone and arctic ice! Ye ain't to blame for the troubles in ye life."

For a moment, Amy felt that rage blossom in her heart again…

Then realized that she had thought the same exact thing about her adopted "mother" at times. Really, she was more mad for Victoria.

**I...guess…**

"And look here miss - when faced with a bunch of fresh long pork and gods know how stale meat, which did ye go for alone, even when ye were faced with a regular idiot literally servin' ye a platter and your mind be that of a hungry wolf?"

Amy nodded. Actually…

"So, ye ain't inherently a killer. Also, I ken ye may have gotten lucky with the _awnshegh_ mutation lottery."

Her mind skipped a thought.** Er, what?**

"Well, given the Chimaera could make herself look like an elf…"

...It was worth a shot.** Um, before I try that, though…?** A wing gestured away from her.

"Right, no costume. Got it." Garril looked away and closed his eyes.

Trying not to get her hopes up, Amy willed herself back into her human form.

Almost immediately, she shrank. Her left lung reinflated and became useful once more, her tongue's fork fused, and her organs un-staggered. The thymus gland migrated from above her heart to its place between her lungs, her lymph nodes reappeared, and her skeleton restructured itself. Fingers separated from the ends of her wings as they compressed and reabsorbed feathers.

When she opened her eyes, she was once again a human girl, lying face down on the surface of the cave's shore.

...No, actually, her ears were pointy and her build was a bit more willowy. Had to work on that, see if being a plain human was possible..

But she had hands once more...and vocal chords!

Rolling over, she laughed. Finally, fucking_ finally_, things weren't as bad as they - Holy shit it was cold.

"I-It worked," she shivered.

And almost instantly, she willed herself back to being a winged snake. Odd, that was actually a little easier to will than shifting out of that form. Oh well.

Garril looked back, smiling impishly. "Not too warm, is it?"

Amy shook her head as she rolled back over on her belly.

Then, something occurred to her.** Why don't you do that? It'd be less frightening. Or are you missing clothes?**

She chuckled. Garril didn't.

The laugh died. **You can't, can you?**

"Not all of us be so lucky to pretend to be normal for a while, no. Not without help." He shook his head. "But what is done be done. If you want, I can take ye back to the mainland, or at least as far as I can without givin' myself away. Less potential wannabe monster killers, that way. Ye can fly the rest, can't ye?"

**I can.** Amy winged on top of the Seadrake's back.** And thanks for helping me snap out of that.**

"You be welcome," he said as he slithered to the sea. "Just...pay a visit, once in a while? It gets lonely out here and I like to know what be on the mainland."

**Sure!**

As the two swam out back to Brockton Bay, Amy suddenly realized she could have read his mind, too.

But then again, he didn't seem untrustworthy enough to violate his privacy like that, and it seemed terribly rude otherwise.

Oh well.

* * *

The amount of gloom hanging over the Dallon house was palpable. Even looking at it spoiled the good mood Amy was in. She almost lost her nerve right then and there, but she shook it off. Even if she could do it tomorrow, she couldn't torture her sister like this.

Clutching her coat tight, Amy quietly positioned the ladder that led to Victoria's window, and climbed up.

Even looking in, Amy could tell her sister was in a bad shape. Several of her things were broken, the normally immaculate bed was in disarray, and Victoria herself was clutching a pillow for dear life.

"...Vic?" Amy spoke hesitantly.

No response.

"Vic, I'm here."

A small twitch. Victoria probably thought she was still dreaming.

Hoo boy. Bracing herself for her sister's reaction, Amy pushed the window just enough to trigger the burglar alarm.

The siren blared, causing the startled blonde to fall out of her bed. Her aura started to activate again as she jumped to her feet, terrified and angry…

…Then she saw who triggered it.

"...Ames?"

Amy said nothing, just smiled apologetically.

"YOU BITCH!"

There was the sound of shattering glass as the elder Dallon tackled her sister through the window.

"YOU'VE BEEN GONE FOR A DAY WE'VE BEEN LOOKING FOR YOU HOW COULD YOU JUST RUN AWAY OH GOD NEVER DO THAT AGAIN OH GOD I MISSED YOU..."

Slowly, the Dallons lowered as Victoria regained control of her emotions, setting them both on the ground.

"Oh God Amy...don't scare me like that...Thank God you're safe...why are you naked?"

Victoria stood back, looking confused at the complete lack of anything under Amy's trenchcoat.

"It was the best I could scrounge."

The blonde rolled this around in her head. "Did someone...take...your clothes?"

"No, actually. They were torn. By me."

Confusion.

"Vic, please don't freak out, but...I got something, from Chimaera."

"Hey, hey, don't worry if you're sick there are other healers-"

"No, I mean a power. Victoria...please don't be scared."

The trenchcoat fell.

Victoria was knocked back by the growing body of her sister.

She fell over in shock.

**...Surprise**, Amy said glumly. This was the part where Victoria would run away and hate her forever damn it why she'd have to get her hopes up-

A strangled hiss came from the winged snake as her sister affixed herself right around her midsection

"Oh God. Ames...I'm so sorry. This has to be horrifying…"

**And you're on my lung. Please stop,** Amy said, even her telepathy sounding strained.

"Oh." Victoria flew back, allowing her sister to breathe.

A second passed as Amy regained her ability to breathe.

"...So," Victoria said, utterly deadpan. "Does this mean we can finally get a sun room?"

It took a second for Amy to get that joke.

Both sisters began to laugh uproariously.

Even the well-intentioned light grenade from her adopted father when he finally came out did nothing to spoil Amy's mood. Finally, things were looking up.

* * *

One-hundred eleven, one-hundred twelve...ah, perfect.

Garril shoved the newest pieces of his collection of ship wheels into place. Looked nicer when things were even and all. He was mildly obsessive compulsive in that respect.

Now, to arrange the containers.

"_What the Hells was that!?_"

And, here comes the pain.

Garril swiveled around to face the otherwise functionally mute source of the synthesized voice. "Givin' the lass a shoulder to cry on, I think. Not somethin' the baatezu are particular fans of, I ken."

There was a brief pause as Jersha Fjoldan, also known as the Siren, typed furiously on her speaking keyboard. "_Don't joke with me, Gerril! You and I know perfectly well what she's going back to!_"

"This _again?_" If Gerril had a hand, he would have brought it to his face. "Look at it this way, Jeru. We be gettin' a new way to spy on both our rivals, keep up to date with both our lil' sis's, and save a girl from offin' herself down the line. I don't ken the Proclamation has the story of what happens to the Fearful Serpent after it's all over and done with. Or even if she be the Fearful Serpent after all."

"_That doesn't excuse sending her back to a FUCKING SATYR!_"

The planar slang for an emotional abuser using mental powers echoed through the cave, no passion lost in the transition from thought to speaker.

Sighing, Gerril affixed his eyes on his fellow _awnshegh_. "Look. Vic ain't comprehendin' she bleeds her aura like that. It sounds like I'm tryin' to justify other satyrs, and believe ye me I get a bad taste from those words alone."

He leaned a little closer. "But even if that be the case - tell me, what is more likely to stop her offin' herself? Being shown her sister will love her forever no matter what happens, or told that she be a sadistic egomaniac who loves no one but herself?"

A pause before Jeru reluctantly started typing again. "_I still hate it._"

"So be I. But even she be wantin' to be free from that trick of her sis. As soon as the Magian lets us be public, I be going to get someone to repair her mind so she can live with herself."

Jeru grumbled, but pulled on the reins of her griffon anyway, taking off.

That out of the way, Gerril went back to much more pressing business.

Hm, the red container did clash a tad….

* * *

**A/N: Behold. The voice of sanity and and compassion in Worm: The bad guys.**

**(of course, both these guys are TN, so not really bad guys…)**

**The thing Amy fought in the Shadow World was a seemer, a sort of autoimmune system against mortal intruders. Take the form of a person's worst fear.**

**And Amy's become a coatl, so...not a very monstrous monster in any sense of the term.**


	16. Chapter 15

**A/N: Note to my readers: Don't believe every spoiler you see from me. I believe in dynamic writing (ie, I change my mind if it makes more sense). I like keeping people on their toes though, so…**

**Also, new extra betas! Say hello to Azunth and Nox, everyone.**

* * *

**Alecto 2.8**

* * *

For the second time in three days, I found myself in Piggot's office for reasons I didn't enjoy one bit.

In this case, though, it had little to do with me. Not directly, anyway.

"...Glenn is going to _hate_ this."

Those were my first words upon seeing the blue snake uncoil from where Amy was a second before on the video.

Naturally, the reason why I was there, Nex'rik (or Nex as we had come to nickname him) was a little confused by this. "Who?"

"The Head of Image."

"Oh." This understanding lasted for a second before he became even more confused. "Er, is there some religious role I'm not aware of or-"

Apparently not wanting to explain the concept of a PR department to the doppleganager, Armsmaster and Miss Militia simultaneously furrowed their brows, furiously thinking at the telepath.

"...Ah. Wow, you people care too much about your reputation."

"Reputation is politics, and politics is everything, Mr. Nex'rik," Piggot replied. "And actually, we asked you up here because we desire your knowledge on what she's become."

He rose an eyebrow. "Er, an _awnshegh._ Obviously. Why was I needed again - Oh, that's why. Personality effects. I assume my savior is there to ensure I don't lie?"

"Got it in one," I replied.

"Nice to have an employer with some common sense," he replied. "Always annoying when people expect the race of spies for hire to be entirely trustworthy, code of the mercenary besides. And people wonder why overlords tend to self-destruct." He pulled up a chair.

"Okay - Do you prefer Adrasteia or Taylor, actually?"

"Taylor out of costume," I replied.

"Taylor, have you noticed being more...assertive, lately? More cynical?"

..,No point in lying to the mind reader. "Yes, and yes. I've also noticed I've been, well...I wouldn't say angrier, but definitely more willing to yell at people. And a bit more social, actually."

I noticed Piggot wincing out of the corner of my eye. She was not going to like this, especially given what I gathered from her remark about experiencing Nilbog firsthand.

"Well, that's due to something all divine blooded have, but is inflamed in _awnsheghlien_; a territorial instinct. Your mind instinctively looks for ways to carve out a little bit of the world for yourself and become the boss of your home. In animals that would be biting people, and pissing on the borders, but Azrai understood his children's territory would be societies. So he made you all natural politicians."

Two things occurred to me.

One: We had been pronouncing that word wrong all this time. Guess Chimaera wasn't as erudite and a figure of nobility as she thought she was. Why was I not surprised?

Second: That...answered my question, actually. Guess I_ was_ turning into Otto von Bismark the Wizard. Also explained why Chimaera and Sphinx went nuts - giving territorial aggression and social adroitness to people who weren't nice to begin with sounded like a recipe for megalomania.

Sort of like how I was becoming more aggressive, controlling, and cynical about my social life.

Felt...nice, actually.

On the one hand, my cells were doing tricks with my mind, making me different from pre-Adrasteia Taylor Hebert. On the other...the parts I was losing weren't really the parts I missed. I was fairly pretty apart from the monstrous bits, I wasn't crippled by fear of social interaction any more, I had friends, people respected me as a hero…

Honestly, apart from my tendency to blow up at people now, I felt...happy. Blessed.

I suddenly understood why both villainous _awnsheghlien_ I met were narcissists in the extreme. I made a note to tell my team to slap me if I started being too egotistical about my awesomeness.

Poor Piggot, on the other hand, actually_ twitched_ a little. "Any lies in that sentiment?"

"Detector says no," Armsmaster remarked.

"Medusas say no, and before you leap on me keep in mind, I'd say he lied if I wanted to sneak my newfound egomania under you."

"Understood. You may return to your quarters, Nex'rik."

"Thanks for letting me out. And telling me who is apparently creating my Protectorate identity." With that, Nex left with his escort.

The clock ticked in silence while the bomb counted down. Armsmaster was the detonator.

"So, the girl we have recently discovered to be able to reshape biology entirely, whether due to second trigger or loss of moral restraint, is now also a biologically engineered mutant with a carnivorous diet and a noted tendency towards aggression and dominance of a local area. She also has an instinctive understanding of large-scale social phenomenon and skill at manipulating it to her own benefit. There is also a degree of genetic memory from her ultimate progenitor that promotes behaving in more ambitious and selfish manner. And she has an ability most often associated with the most intelligent and vicious Endbringer." He cradled his head. "For the record, I currently despise all life, my own among them."

A grunt of affirmation from Miss Militia, Piggot, and me.

There was a very long pause. Then Piggot cleared her throat.

"We cannot let news of this escape. We already are going to have enough troubles as is with news of Ms. Dallon's metamorphosis and her newfound telepathic abilities. Do not tell a single individual, do not keep records alluding to this, do not discuss this amongst yourselves unless you are absolutely certain of privacy. Not without confirmation from my superiors."

A long pause, before we all reluctantly said our affirmatives.

Knowing Amy was kin to the Simurgh in multiple ways - blue, winged, telepathic, and actually rather beautiful in her serpentine form - was enough of a disaster as it was. That, and the fact that we were both touched by cells from an Earth so strange it might as well be an alien planet.

To know she, and_ me,_ were now both geared towards conquest and masterminding plots to do so? Ha, ha, _no_. Maybe once we found our equilibriums between what Azrai's idea of what we should be and superheroics, but until then? Nope.

"Right then," Piggot finished. "I am going to inform Nex'rik of this, and ask Miss Dallon to replace my kidneys and heal my heart. I do not wish the Chimaera fiasco to occur again. After that, I will make preparations for activating the 23rd Platoon's device when the ambassador arrives, and finish some paperwork (lie)."

As all capes left, I snuck a sin-scent off Piggot to figure out what she actually planned on under the lie.

_Plans to use kidneys to enjoy being able to be safely drunk again._

Ah. No blame from me.

* * *

Truth is, I was actually somewhat relieved that Panacea had turned into a winged snake.

Vista needed something like that to happen.

"Please?"

**No.**

"Pretty please?"

**No.**

"Just once?"

**No...okay, once.**

"Yes!" And with that, Vista was now on Amy's…midsection, I guessed. Ophidian anatomy was not my strength.

In other words, Missy was back to something resembling normal. Far better than yesterday.

Yesterday would be the reason I was calling her Vista instead of Missy in my mind. She asked to be called that, after all.

That couldn't have been healthy.

Truth is, I don't think either Missy or Dennis quite realized how lethal being a superhero could be until Chimaera's attack. At least Dennis didn't. Missy was just, well, extremely glum over the past couple days, while Dennis...I didn't recognize him.

Speaking of whom…

"Any comments from the peanut gallery, Dennis?"

The tone came out a little more desperately than it should.

The redhead looked up. "Unfortunately, given how Missy is thirteen, any comments about riding a giant snake are both creepy and likely to put me on a rather dubious list. So no."

Both he and I tried to laugh at that, before he went back to staring at his knees.

"...So, do you think Amy will enjoy being on the Atkins diet?"

"Possibly."

No other reaction.

After a day of this, I was finally ready to stop beating around the bush.

"None of what happened was your fault," I blurted out.

Smooth, Taylor. Real smooth.

He jerked up, looking confused before comprehending.

Then angry.

"Yeah, I _guessed,_" he growled. So not only did I not help, I patronized him. I really needed to ask Dean how he managed to be the team's emotional rock.

"Okay, okay, bad opening line," I backpedaled. "Look, I've been really worried about you over the last day and-"

"No, it's okay," he said, calming down. "I just heard the same thing from Dean yesterday, and...really, it's not survivor guilt. I get why you think that, but...it's not worth talking about."

...Well, this wouldn't do.

I pulled up a chair, and sat in it in front of him.

"Dennis, I am going to put this bluntly. What you're doing right now? Not a good plan. You can't heal a wound by trying to ignore it, because you can't. You're just letting it fester."

He was actually smirking now. "I didn't know the PRT had Changer shrinks, doctor. Where's the real Taylor?"

I suppressed a laugh, more in relief than anything. "Right here. This right here is my bad imitation of Dr. Yamada, only better than the original in that the Pig can't subpoena my memories."

"I wouldn't put it past her." His smirk fell. "...Okay, maybe it is kind of survivor guilt, but it's not because I think any of us deserve the blame. It's Piggy being incapable of asking our friendly neighborhood viper for help and her goon squad for being incapable of making their own decisions. But…"

He sighed.

"I...there's other Chimaeras out there. We fragged one, but...the Endbringers, the S9? They're still out there. Probably always will be out there."

"So tell me..." he said, looking up. "What kind of difference can we make if we lost fifty people and two capes to one psychopath, when there's _worse_ out there?"

...Okay, now _I_ was depressed. Damn you, Dennis, for your all-too-accurate cynicism.

But no, he needed strength right now.

"...We don't know yet."

"Huh?"

"I'm saying, we won't know until we try," I said, rolling the little speech I had internally written for this precise kind of pessimism. "We're just the Wards of an incredibly shitty city where things were going wrong long before Scion showed up. Compared to the rest of the first world, we drew the crap hand. If we could, we would probably fold and try again with a nicer city."

"But the reason Brockton Bay is so crappy? Nobody really tried. Not Mayor Wilkinson when the Pinkertons set up shop here, not Director MacLeod when the PRT opened its office, not the people when the McClusky-Naegi act came along. The closest thing we had was Benthos seeding the bay, and all we get is water it's possible to swim in without skin peeling off. And we're stuck with the mess of generations."

I leaned forward. "So, life sucks for us. But if we try, we may in fact prove the whole damn history up till now was the control experiment. And if not, we can at least laugh at history and say we're better than all of them, because we at least_ tried."_ A thought. "So long as we aren't too busy focusing on being irradiated to death, drowning in a wave, or being turned into brainwashed slaves to remember that."

He finally cracked a grin. "You forgot being slashed by extend-a-knives, being torn apart by monochrome claws, wondering when the faceless cyborg is going to get us, made into horrifying experiments, burninated, or eaten by a blob of sadomasochism and mutation."

"I'm leaving it to one of them possibly dying before they come here. There could be one whose entire power is to turn people inside out by the time they get here too. I haven't thought of a descriptor for that horrible death yet."

Dennis chuckled.

"Seriously, you and Dean should trade notes. Maybe you could start your own psychology firm someday - Dr. Knight and Dr. Demon, Police Psychiatrists."

"We can even have a tagline! 'Tell us about your day.._.or it's off to solitary with you.'_"

"Oh, what about the badly spelled fanfiction of the resolving the unresolved, possibly nonexistent tension between Gallont and Adrestaia!"

I mimed a pen. "'Oh Dan, take me into your azure orbs and columns of lighted passion…'"

Not to be outdone, Dennis mimed his own pen. "'Oh, but I love you so much more than that ugly, brick-headed misogynist jerk, Clockbroker…'"

"'I'm also the nicest person to ever exist, which I play you and Den-den against each other…'"

"'Oh, but Taylar, there's someone else! A girl with changing eye colors and angel wings who looks a lot like a prettier hybrid of you and the author!'"

We both laughed a little harder at that joke than it probably was warranted.

After he calmed down, I could see the weight lifted off his shoulders. "Thanks. I really needed that."

I grinned, more in relief than anything. "Great. Now let's not watch the news for the next day. I really don't want to see the anti-para pundits' screeching about Panacea now being a snake with telepathy."

* * *

The ambassador, an older man by the name of Leonard McCaskill, smoothed himself before the series of camera crews that had followed him into the repurposed examination room.

"My fellow Americans, today is a grand day in both the human quest to explore the cosmos, and perhaps take the first in a very long journey to understanding the origins of parahuman powers…"

I immediately began to wonder if this was actually the disguised President himself and something about a fellow inherent cynic (mom taught me many things, including the fact that the perfect cure for idealism was going into politics) not tripping the Medusas. I don't think ambassadors made appeal-to-the-crowd speeches. Mostly appeal-to-the-guy-with-lots-of-guns speeches. Then again, I guessed first contact was a public event by necessity, and that needed the former kind of speeches. Everything must be a spectacle, otherwise nobody remembers it. If there was a scandal or problem (say, the actual diplomat-in-chief not making first contact himself despite every movie and Earth Aleph saying that was his job), make something else a bigger spectacle.

Either that, or McCaskill wanted to be the diplomat-in-chief someday. Probably not, at least in the next election (more likely the majority leader, if he decided to run. Clinton, I think his name was). Perhaps both.

"...an ally that has suffered the state of perpetual chaos that comes with paranormal abilities far longer than we…"

An ally? Bit overly optimistic there, Mr…

A thought. "The sky is made of cotton candy," I lied to myself, whispering.

Yep, detected.

So either I couldn't smell politicians at all, or…

"Armsmaster, is the room airtight?" I whispered.

"...Yes?"

"Shit, just discovered a weakness in the sin-scent. I have to actually_ smell_ the source."

He mulled this over. "...Ah. Shit indeed."

Yep. Turned out that the well-intentioned lethal gas-proof safety room (normally meant for observers and researchers who didn't need to be in the examination room proper) just rendered the more failsafe half of the lie detectors useless. Even if we drilled out, the glass room the device was in was also airtight, and I don't think McCaskill would like the idea of putting him in even more risk just for something he was used to doing without anyway. Or ruining the photo-op.

Dammit. Besides yet another attack of PRT Certified Competent Preparation, this was my fault. I should have caught on to the fact I didn't smell the lies of live television rather than assumed it was due to distance or me telling the Medusas that showmanship and bias were to be expected. Or thinking to test that. I was pretty sure my boss (or Dragon) could have made some kind of safe scent-mike for exactly this kind of thing.

Shit, shit, shit.

Well, nothing to do except relax and reflect on failures in planning. "I'll, um, go provide moral support," I said, collapsing into my chair.

Time to start learning how to work without my snakes. Argh.

So, real motive for speech. My guess was that this was a calculated gambit on McCaskill's bit. Present himself as the idealistic explorer, the first contact with the 23rd Platoon's species (alliance of species?) goes smoothly, and he gets heralded as an idealistic, understanding diplomat. Should that device be a bomb of some kind, he gets to be martyred to catalyze the war against the alien invaders.

If that line was true, I had to respect his guts, if nothing else. Going into a plan not only knowing there is a risk of death but planning for it took a combination of cunning and a spine. Ergo actually brave, not stupid.

Televising a speech when he knew crap all about what was on the other end was stupid, however. Stupid and rather egomanical. You could have waited for the initial greeting at least.

"With that out of the way...Sir."

The PRT scientist to the side nodded and pressed a button on the side of the device's containment glass.

A metal arm swing out. A robotic hand was guided by the scientist descended on the dimple.

As it pushed, I quickly realized I was right to not think of it as a "button"- it didn't press like a button, if that made sense. It actually collapsed into the rest of the metallic nonagon.

Then the top liquefied.

The scientist jumped back from the controls as the liquid iron on top of the device "swam" upwards in small cords, which began to twist together in a tight spiral cone. Other colors flicked across the surface as it twisted.

Then the cone began to shake and ripple. The soldiers brought up there quickly readied their weapons-

Then calm. Then shake.

_It's a visual form of a ringing phone,_ I realized.

Apparently someone on the other end was paying attention. The cone burst into a great splatter, and the metal pooled on the floor in front of the device's table. It quickly rose to height taller than a man, colors solidifying-

An incredibly tall figure, just under seven feet, stood in front of the table in the puddle of metal. Shining plate armor and a purple cape, almost straight out of the pages of medieval histories of warrior kings, was layered over a suit covering a muscular and wiry body. A scepter with the head of a mace was held in the figure's right hand, a modern tablet computer in the left.

And the face was the man on the dinar, handsome and horned, with red eyes that did not seem to glow as to not permit any color but their own in their immediate presence.

For a moment, his expression was stoic, intense but otherwise unreadable. Looking like the statue he resembled.

Then he smiled, and bowed his head politely. "Greetings, peoples of Earth. I am Archduke Dispater of Baator, Iron Lord of the Second. Allow me to welcome you to a most productive relationship between our species."

The ambassador, after taking a moment to take in the sight of the other representative, bowed his head as well. "Greetings. I'm Leonard McCaskill of Earth Bet, Ambassador of the United States of America. The pleasure is all mine."

Applause came from the media and the other observers in the room. A perfect photo-op.

After taking the projector device outside the glass box, the next hour or so passed largely as would be expected, with both diplomats explaining their respective species.

Apparently Dispater's race were called the baatezu, literally People of the Regal in his language, with Baator being Land of the Regal. From the sound of it, they were organized in some kind of meritocratic monarchy, with a kind of transhumanist changing of various castes - a baatezu showing enough merit would be remade as a "higher" subspecies, all the way up to the nobility like Dispater himself. I immediately saw the ripe potential for nepotism, but I guessed that was a trait of all politics.

Speaking of their name, a big question immediately came up about the fact that he was speaking English and not...Baatezite? Baatorian? Baatish? ...The baatezu language.

Dispater smiled politely, obviously expecting this. "As my fellow, Princess Glasya of the Sixth would put it, magic is a force that seeks evolution. Since mutual barbarism would not be conducive to evolution, the fundamentally mystical way our worlds connected also came with an effect that causes our understanding of the most common language among our planes - our dimensions, to use your term for them - into an understanding of the dominant area we extraplanars find ourselves in. Should you come with us, English would become the trade tongue as well."

I noticed how he avoided mentioning conflict was a main driver of evolution. If the theory about parahumans being a product of what he and Nex called magic, I could easily see the link between capes and Glasya's opinion of the matter.

"Pardon me for asking the seeming obvious, but...Princess?" asked McCaskill. "May I ask if she earned that title or is like ours; a daughter of your ruler?"

The Iron Lord smirked. "We are not so alien from you than that. Princess means the same thing in any language. Yes, the Archduchess is indeed the daughter of our King, Asmodeus of the Ninth."

Something deep within me immediately wanted to salute at the mention of that name. Given my apparent link to the baatezu, I darkly wondered if the Azrai neurons did more to my mind than just make me an ideal campaigner.

Although...Asmodeus? Besides the whole "instinctive kowtowing" thing, I swore I heard it somewhere before.

The human ambassador nodded. "I see. We do not really have kings in America, our ruler is voted by popular mandate for a set number of years."

"Hm. Inefficient, but reasonable for a nation that only covers a middle portion of a single continent. More resistant to corruption. Please, continue."

The next few topics were the finer points of the size of the baatezu domain (apparently their empire consisted of nine interconnected dimensions with thousands of tributaries across the worlds), until eventually, the real question on the minds of everyone sensible.

"Er, pardon my asking, but...why did you initially contact us through an escort set to Adras-er, Ms. Hebert's location? Why not send the projector directly?"

A second while Dispater apparently mulled over his words.

"...Magic is also an incredibly odd thing. Particularly when it involves dimensions."

The metal composing the projection shifted. In place of his scepter, there was now something that resembled a model of the solar system. With more planets and no sun.

"Understand, there is something in the forces of magic that we refer to as the Law of Attraction. That which is like calls to like. Order brings order, chaos begets chaos, form calls to similar form. When your Ms. Hebert became_ awnshegh_, she was remade in a similar image to one of our castes, an erinyes."

Now the tablet reconfigured. In it's place was a model of a being that looked like an angel - with two wings and male, thank God, I didn't need to be compared to Ziz too - but with a feral cast to his features and the wings were of a bird of prey.

"Given her own inherent magical nature, this drew us into contact with your plane," he said as he waved the erinyes around the model. A model of me was drawn out of a planet, and like a magnet, the planet was pulled towards the erinyes.

"Unfortunately for all involved, that was all the connection we had. Barely enough for us to call her mind to Baator."

A small, silvery cord was drawn from my model to the erinyes.

"We were able to send a Dissian Dinar back with her through a pocket in existence, and it has to be activated by someone where we are summoned to."

He looked down. "We misjudged how different your world is from ours, and she assumed it was a mere dream until she became that desperate. We are truly, deeply sorry for what transpired between you and the de-my apologies, the _tanar'ri._"

Huh?

McCaskill apparently caught on too. "Excuse me, but I believe-"

"My apologies. It's a very rude term for another sapient race...no matter how long we've loathed each other," Dispater grinned apologetically.

I couldn't help but wonder if that "slip" was intentional to help segway into a new topic.

The ambassador either did not catch on or played along. "If the...tahn-ar-ree attacked us, I think we can forgive an explanation for your enmity."

The metal composing the models was reabsorbed into the main projection as the Archduke crossed his arms defensively. A look of pain flickered across those eyes of his.

"...The tanar'ri and baatezu have been at full-scale war. For generations."

And with that, I immediately understood and forgave the 23rd Platoon's ruthless tactics.

I suspected generations of war tended to wring out the concept of any ideals, any honor, any virtue except for "win, by any means necessary." Hell, I suspected the baatezu were less a nation and more of an army with civic functions attached.

I supposed I should pity the tanar'ri too, but being exposed to just how savage and cruel they could be really biased me against pitying them.

McCaskill caught on too. While he had kept his expression of "curious but polite interest" throughout the whole meeting, he let a look of absolute horror cross his face.

"...I'm sorry."

"I thank you for your concern. But we have made what peace we can with it." Dispater sighed, looking away from everyone for a bit with a distant expression, before he turned back to McCaskill with his normally stoic expression. "I will be honest with you in this - the Blood War is part of the reason we contacted this world in the first place."

McCaskill immediately rose a finger, but the Archduke made his own "calm down" gesture. "I am not asking any of this planet to fight or even to encounter another tanar'ri. We merely desire to trade for resources - the war machine devours everything we have. We do not require much, not even oil - only minerals that you have already mined, and the ability to negotiate for other contracts from your guilds and occasional person for other deals. In return, we will give you schematics for our hard technology and tutelage in magic. We do not expect you to make a decision _now_, and we recognize that we have not nearly gone into details about what we need and what we provide."

I noticed he recited this a bit briskly. More like a sales pitch than a reassurance.

The ambassador nodded, frowning. "How shall we contact you?"

"When you have assembled whoever you wish to speak about the terms of our deal, please activate the projector again, hopefully between your hours of seven and eight-"

There was a small_ beep_ as Dispater's hand went to his ear. "Er, my apologies, in this time zone, as I deliberately leave that corresponding hour in our world open for calls. While I may be otherwise occupied for the moment, I will have a representative on call for initial negotiations while I finish what business I have. We look forward to working with you."

McCaskill nodded. "As well as we."

Dispater smiled, and gave that head bow again. "May order support you and your ventures."

McCaskill mimed the head bow. "I don't know the proper response to that, so...may it support you as well, Archduke."

A brief smirk played about the baatezu's features. I couldn't help but think that McCaskill had made a huge faux pas in normal...Baatorian etiquette.

"Farewell."

Dispater's form turned grey and then fell apart back into liquid metal. The blob soon flowed back into the projector before solidifying, with a dimple on the top.

The reporters, who had probably pushed their restraint to the breaking point right now, immediately swarmed, bees with cameras instead of stingers.

As for me, I just turned to Armsmaster. "Anything on your end?"

Given how he had taken his helmet off and was inspecting the lie detector, in retrospect that was a dumb question.

"I need to calibrate this thing to metal avatars, let alone baatezu. It turned on as soon as the Archduke appeared and started beeping throughout the whole negotiation. Annoying."

* * *

Lie detector malfunctions out of the way, the rest of the day was...almost boring.

Intentionally so. First contact with an alien race (even if they were Baator's version of humans, evolution and reengineering of their own biology had long since transformed them into something unrecognizable) aside, there was also discovering that a...well, not friend, but potential ally turned into a shapeshifting guest star on the Rod of Asclepius, discovering both of us were fated to be hot-tempered social manipulators, and being sworn to secrecy about the whole matter. I just did my schoolwork and tried very, very hard to avoid anything resembling excitement.

Being largely stuck in headquarters by default helped.

The beginning of the night, however, was the end of the grace period of peaceful boredom.

"Gah! Don't scare me like that!"

The PRT guy rubbed his nose where the wing hit. "Sorry, thought you could see out through those snakes."

"Unfortunately no," I said, folding my wings back from the startled full spread. "I don't even know if they can see...though I suppose they could serve as an early warning system if they can. Thanks for the idea. So, what was the business?"

"Well, ma'am, the projector reactivated. It's...asking for you."

I felt myself pale a little. "H-hey, I'm sure Dispater wants to clear the air with the initial point of contact, but, I'm not a diplomat. I-"

"And it won't respond to any of us, it just gets mad. It's also...insistent."

Huh? "Er...okay? I guess I can talk-"

The agent suddenly leaned out my door. "You can let it go now, Bob."

There was suddenly a clatter, followed by a metallic scurrying.

And then the projector literally walked in. By itself. "Message for Taylor Hebert, alias Adrasteia," a tinny voice sounded.

It hadn't grown legs so much as projecting a set of them from the top. The button dimple had raised up a bit, revealing a kind of obelisk with my likeness etched on it.

Apparently the baatezu really, really didn't like people missing calls. Nor did they particularly care about prank calls meant to wake people up. I could see a lot of misery related to telemarketers in this device.

I blinked, attempting to verify whether I had fallen asleep or not. "I..um...well. Huh."

"We tried to answer it ourselves, but uh, it didn't really like that," the agent said, revealing a bruise on his arm. "Those legs have a punch."

Well, I couldn't say no to that kind of thing, could I? The safety of a guard is not worth annoying the fellow on the other end. Silently, I pressed the response dimple, the projector literally leaping to help me.

The legs and button pad dissolved before the projector-metal flowed out again. This time, instead of becoming an individual person, it turned into a red, stylized symbol - two stretched triangles with topped with an upside-down normal one with a white half-circle in the middle. Sort of like a stylized representation of an cyclops angel. Or a robed figure with the world's largest hood.

Supporting the "head" was text that initially looked like bizarre runic diagrams, which quickly reformed into English letters: SOUND ONLY.

"Ah, glad to see someone finally figured out the bleeding obvious," a female voice muttered. Immediately I could tell the difference between her accent and Dispater's - the Archduke spoke incredibly precisely and evenly, as if he wanted to be sure that every letter was pronounced as perfectly as he could manage in daily language. This baatezu spoke more casually, but interestingly, she didn't quite trail off as most people do at the end of her sentence. Indeed, she emphasized the end word almost as much as the beginning, as if she was trying to make it clear it was the end of her sentence. Like she was barking instructions and trying to make them clear as possible.

Or maybe she was just angry that people didn't realize how her phone worked. "Er, I can hear you, miss," I said.

"Yeah, and I can see one of the idiots who didn't realize that _maybe we should take the projector to the person it says it needs to be taken to_ for five wasted minutes. That was meant for him, not you, madam."

Wow. Impatient much? The agent bristled. "Sorry, miss," he muttered.

"You're forgiven. Just...be a little quicker on the draw next time, eh?" The question, when combined with her normal accent, almost sounded like she was shouting it.

"As you wish, miss."

"That out of the way…" I felt the baatezu's attention fall back on me. "Greetings, Miss Taylor. I've been looking forward to meeting you directly ever since I found out of your..abilities."

I looked over the "anonymous caller" symbol. "Bit hard to meet you directly when you're...not showing your face."

"I'm not? Ah crap. Hold a bit…"

The symbol dissolved. The metal pooled out on the floor again before reforming into a humanoid form that was oddly misshapen. Then it was colored in.

I'm ashamed to admit I jumped back a little when I saw the person it resolved into. I saw the agent instinctively reach for his foam gun.

The woman was nearly as human-seeming as Dispater, but there were some subtle differences. She was somewhat paler, almost blue, for instance. A bit more lithe. No horns, for another, instead having a modest collection of scars.

The not-so-subtle difference was the chains that coated her skin, head to toe, with some even being thread through her body, and a few attached to iron plates and modern body armor that also seemed almost bolted to her. A few were animate, almost like metallic tentacles. Technically she was nude under them, but her chains covered her so thickly that she qualified as decent. That, and strategically placed plates that I suspected were less about decency and more about protection.

Upon seeing my reaction, an otherwise pretty, bespectacled face apart from the mask of chains grinned sheepishly. "I was afraid of this."

And I immediately felt the guilt wash in. Hypocrisy, thy name is Taylor Hebert. I only got that I caught the scent of emotional manipulation a second later. Huh, guess it worked over distances.

Rubbing my monarch pin, I drew back up. "...Sorry."

"Eh, don't be. Most have that reaction to kytons." She did the baatezu head-bow. "My real name requires ruffling of animate chains to pronounce, so use my chosen one - call me Cordelia. Cordelia Fichte."

I nodded in response. "Taylor. Taylor Hebert. But you knew that."

"I did indeed." She pointed at the projector proper. "This thing's also a research probe, it's how we knew time zones existed. Might want to note that!" she called back to the PRT agent, who nodded before walking out to radio his buddies.

I rolled the name around in my head. "...did that thing tell you about Earth culture as well? Both of those names are references."

"To Shakespeare and the philosopher who coined the the idea of consciousness existing in and of itself? Yes. Yes they are." Fichte giggled. "I think the philosopher rolled in his grave a little when a lady doctor, of all people, chose his name as an alias." She paused. "Even if kyton medicine is a little...arcane."

I rose an eyebrow as I looked the chain-covered woman over. "That's baatezu scrubs?"

"First, these chains are part of me, second, I'm not a baatezu." Fichte leaned a little closer, hiding her lips in a rather human gesture of 'sharing a secret' "If you see a chain-covered scarred being traveling with them, I'd advise you not to confuse the two. A lot of us find it rather offensive."

Okay, that was new. "...You're not a baatezu? But-"

"I work with them, yes. But kytons are a different species entirely, even if we share the same common ancestor," she said, leaning back against an unseen wall. "In the distant past, we split over a philosophical difference that nobody bothers to remember. Bottom line? They're soldiers and rulers, we're doctors and scientists. The races are symbiotic, close allies, but we're two quite different forms of Baator life."

I nodded. Different species from different transhuman engineering. Made sense. "...So I guess Dispater knows about this? Doesn't seem smart to give the diplomatic corps to another country, even an ally."

"_There's_ that brain your press hawks. Yes, Ms. Hebert, he knows. He allowed me to call, because of what I offer that benefits all of us. Hey you, guy with the gun!" she called out the door. "You might want to note this too!"

The PRT guy came back, with his teammate and with notebook in hand.

The kyton stood up straight, clapping her hands together in front of her chest

"Taylor, how would you like me to be your magic tutor?"

My brain stopped working for a second. "...Pardon?"

"I play middleman to you fully awakening that magical potential in your cells, and as soon as the first trade vessel arrives, I'm on there to help you fully explore all the applications of it. I also help the first Arcane Division of the PRT on its feet."

The agents stood dumbstruck for a second, then began to furiously scribble.

I took a bit longer, on the basis I had to reboot my language after the latest wallop. "Um...er..,thanks, but uh...no offense...there's a catch, right?"

"No point in not lying. Yes there is a catch," she said as she motioned to something that was presumably on her end. "Your inherent ability of wizardry takes decades to learn. Decades I'm pretty sure you have, but within a reasonable timeframe? Ha!"

A strange, spherical creature, seemingly a fleshy, scarred orb with a single human eye, coated in chains with some blades sticking out, floated up to Fichte from out of camera-equivalent, a bit of metal jumping up to form its image. "Instead, I'm offering to connect you to one of the many lords of the Shadow World, and combine your energy with their own knowledge. A fellow witch like me, I mean, with your powers syncing with your patron's for a familiar most witches would envy when starting out."

"And your benefit is…?"

"We would have the same patron, in all likelihood." She twined her finger around a loose chain of the sphere and gently pulled, causing the eye to close as it made a strange, groaning purr. "This augur is the symbol of my bond with said patron, and it's through him that you'll be contacting the forces that empower witchcraft. Naturally, the process will favor the one Saphaira here is linked too, and thus the one liable to grant your powers. Said patron is likely to enjoy having another witch dedicated to it, I get major brownie points and thus likely a few favors, everybody goes home happy." She shrugged. "That, and I get an apprentice. So, any objections?"

I mulled it over. Not for very long, as there was absolutely no scent of deception from her. Or even that much of a sin-stink, just places where she could have applied to more rigorous recording ethics and some fistfights with demons - the racist term for tanar'ri, I guessed.

Plus, it was a way to annoy Piggot, especially if I brought up the fact that the chained woman's offer would result in her finally having a way to equalize normal humans with capes.

But just to be safe…

"Hey, you guys don't have any objections to this, do you?" I said to the agents. "You can radio Piggot for permission to learn magic yourselves when Ms. Fichte gets here," I enticed, brazenly ignoring the manipulation scent.

Ten minutes later, the go-ahead. Huh, that was...really easy. I would have expected the Director herself to come charging down, pissed we interrupted her drinking time. Oh well.

"Will I get warts and a broom to fly around on? Because that seems redundant."

She grinned with the look of a victorious saleswoman. "No, just a mad cackle that prolongs the effects of certain hexes. Creepy, but people get used to it." She let go of the augur. "You heard the tiefling _awnshegh_, Saph. Go on, don't be shy."

The orb nodded silently, bobbing in the air, turned to me. Its eye turned black-

_Darkness._

_Profound, endless darkness. _

_Not empty darkness, though there were no other beings in it. This darkness was filled by itself - a black expanse of _potential_, stuff that was not quite matter or energy but eagerly awaiting the moment it would be. A place fertile with anticipation of being, and of forever changing._

_A bit of that potential coalesced. Something that was almost, but not quite a mind brushed me._

_"Other/Shadow/Absence of Light. Allow/Enable/Fuse Me/Us/Self With?"_

_It took what felt like days to understand, bobbing in the dark, fertile sea. When it came, it was as if the shadow was become as light, and I could see the entire world in a place without sight._

_"Yes. You may be my shadow."_

_"Thankfulness/Gratitude/Fulfillment of desire."_

The almost mind split into two, one that transformed my shadow from mere outline in the sun into something in its own right as another half took a deep sniff of my spirit and became a place where the dark had become a gate to another place, one of light and hope-

I snapped back to reality, falling over.

I wasn't sure if I hit my head or if I had that much of a migraine.

"It's strange, isn't it?" said Fichte, a wistful look in her eye. "Strange and wonderful."

I was too busy fighting off the headache to respond. I felt my mind clearing and-

Holy crap that was not there before.

My shadow almost felt like an extra limb now. Even in the relative dark, I could tell it was just as clearly defined as it would be on the brightest of days, darker than the space between the stars.

Neither good nor bad, just...different.

Along with the intuitive knowledge that, somewhere, the other half of the almost-mind was joining with something of pure hope, something that understood harmony and peace as a function of what it was. Something made of light to cast a great and magnificent shadow with-

Why was the augur frowning?

Well, not frowning, but certainly narrowing its eye in frustration and disappointment?

It flew back to its mistress, bobbing around oddly while shifting its blades in what appeared to be sign language?

A look of disappointment came to Fichte's face as well. "Ah. She's bound to one of them, eh?"

Huh? Did I do something wrong? Oh god I lost control of the patron and it's going to take me over and spread an age of darkness-

Apparently the kyton caught on. "Oh, nothing wrong with you. It's just that...your familiar isn't the kind of being I would have really wanted for you. It's something that will help you a lot, it's just...welp." She shrugged, her normal disposition returned. "In any case, welcome sister witch. I think your familiar will be able to get you on your feet when you meet it, I'll be over there in, say, a month or so? I look forward to meeting you, real face to real face."

She bowed her head again. "May your journey to greater enlightenment be fruitful. You're supposed to say 'I can only hope it is as fruitful as yours' here, by the by."

I bowed my own. "I can only hope it is as fruitful as yours," I recited.

"Goodbye."

And the form of my new tutor and her cyclopean assistant collapsed into the projector, peaceful once more.

* * *

Fireball!

Dissolve!

Rot.

…Anything?

Apparently this magic thing required more technique than "focus on printed copy of McClusky-Naegi Act, watch fireworks." Damn. Really waiting for that familiar to arrive. Then I could really celebrate being an official mage now, first in all of Earth Bet.

I suspected patience when it came to magic was a high virtue though, so-

"Er, pardon me for interrupting here, but…"

Gah!

My wing knocked over several things while I spun around. Really needed to get control of that reaction.

There was a fog bank in my room. A cat-shaped fog bank.

"Shadow magic doesn't really specialize in direct destruction," said the fog bank, in a calm, quiet male voice."You would want a patron of Fire for that. Shadow witches are more illusionists, although some of the things your specialty may conjure are real enough to be used as physical objects. A little cunning goes a long way with all witchcraft, but Shadow especially."

The penny dropped.

"...you're my familiar, aren't you?" Huh, an illusionist with living fog for a familiar. Makes thematic sense.

"Well, common sense would proclaim that I am. But common sense really doesn't work with magic. To keep up, it would be prudent to make sure that you're mad, I'm mad, and for the sake of profession we're all mad here."

The fog coalesced.

"But one of magic's rules is that there is an exception to every rule, and in this case common sense would work. Pleasure to meet you for the foreseeable future."

My inner Vista almost slipped the leash and squealed out loud. I had a talking, flying cat as the source of my new powers.

A cool-looking flying cat too. Long, black, and sleek, almost like a miniature panther with giant ears. A pair of violet eyes glimmered with cunning and intellect, as a tail almost as long as the rest of his body swished about. Intermittent grey stripes ran down his back, almost tiger-like.

Apart from the eyes, his most notable feature was a white patch of fur on his chest. Or more accurately, what seemed to be a natural design of a tree. It even came with visible leaves.

"Please name me Tybalt. It's not my true name, but I don't want that getting out." A transparent top hat appeared on his head, and he quickly tipped it with his tail before it vanished. "I'm a silvanshee, also known as a cat sith even though I'm not a fae, but an agathion. Nice to meet you, Miss...Hebert, I think?"

"Taylor Hebert," I said, holding out a hand. "Welcome to the team."

The silvanshee stared at the hand.

"Er, yeah, humans shake forelimbs as a form of greeting. We intertwine them and move them up and down."

A look of comprehension before he extended a forepaw into mine and...moved his shoulder up and down.

I chuckled. "Close enough."

Tybalt shrugged, an oddly human gesture for a cat. "I know this is sudden, but before I serve as channel to your patron, can I take a look at your past?"

Good feelings gone. "Wait, what?"

"I just found the patron link, I didn't know who else it was attached to, I just followed it here because someone was looking for a familiar."

I had a Medusa sniff him, looking for an ulterior motive. No dice, possibly due to being completely non-human. In fact, no scent at all. That was...suspicious. Very suspicious.

"You just followed a link out of the goodness of your heart?"

The cat's eyebrow shot up. "I'm an _agathion._ The goodness of my very matter, more like. Listen, I know it's likely been tough for one such as you, but not everyone has ulterior motives."

No dice. "Okay...what color is my hair? Please lie about that."

"...Blue(lie)?"

Okay, so it_ did_ work on non-human species. Wow, this guy was actually...nice. Really, really nice. If a bit too racially proud of his species. Also, a hermit, I suspected. You don't get clean for six months by dealing with society, he probably wanted someone to talk to if he knew what the familiar bond meant. If only subconsciously.

"Sorry, these snakes are lie detectors. I was making sure they were working right."

"Ah. Useful." Tybalt looked understanding. "Bet it feels nice to sniff someone who at least tries to be perfectly honest and just, doesn't it?"

_Emotional manipulation. Trying to show he isn't a threat despite your basic reaction._

Huh? But I didn't-

Wait. Territorial instinct.

"Um, excuse me, have you dealt with...someone like me before?"

"Four times, not including you" he said. "Always so scared of everyone, always so surprised when they have an agathion as familiar. Always so relieved, too." He rested a paw on my shoulder. "You showed them they were wrong already, you can do it again if you try. I know it hurts, but please, retract your quills for a bit and just trust me for a few seconds. That's all I ask, and I can't turn on you anyway, the bond prevents that."

Wow. Someone needed to trade notes with Yamada. Possibly get training too, I don't think this was trained therapy.

"...Okay. But I swear, it's not as bad as you-"

"No, it's okay. I understand."

Tybalt's eyes turned black, and-

_the darkness danced, a thousand thousand memories taking shape-_

And back again.

I blinked. Two weird vision quests in one day was too much. I mean seriously-

The cat looked horrified. Why did the cat look horrified?

"...do you mind if I take a look at your back and arms?"

Huh? "I guess, but-"

Tybalt suddenly turned into a blur of black and grey that would put an excited Missy to shame. Fur brushed across my body as he paused in all three areas-

Now he was back in front of me, looking relieved but still anxious. "No marks, no chains. Good, means no contract bond."

"Whoa, whoa, slow down, I-"

"First, I was mistaken. You weren't always a tiefling, and I'm not sure if you are now. You're powerful enough to bond to an outsider familiar such as me upon initial access to the Art, for one. I may also have made some assumptions about your life that in retrospect might have been offensive towards your parents and friends. I'm sorry."

He said all this as quickly as he could without making the words unintelligible. And more than a tad frantically.

"Er...you're forgiven?"

"Second - I need you to help me build a dimensional gate sometime in the near future. Preferably to my plane, but Arborea is also good. Preferably as quietly as possible to avoid alerting either baatezu or kyton."

Okay, that was sudden. "Er?"

"Look, Baatorians are honorable _enough_ to trust about as far as you can throw them. They honor the letter of the agreement, if nothing else. But they are_ not_ honest, and they're masters of deceiving without actually lying," he said, more to himself than anything. "I suspect they may have chosen a kyton specifically because their crimes are so arcane, so_ bizarre_, your snakes didn't comprehend their depth."

Er, no, I thought to myself. I'm attuned to a lot of sin, I think I could tell if she was acting selfishly. But he seemed genuinely scared, and I realized I didn't know the first thing about the wider society Tybalt and Fichte were a part of, so probably best to give benefit of the doubt to the cat.

Probably shouldn't show that though, I didn't need to build into his panic. "Hey, hey, slow down! Look, I don't know what past you've had with Baator races, but-"

"Not my past. Past of the Great Wheel, the multiverse itself. I can't tell you exactly what, they might catch on and I'll put you in grave danger. But here's a saying that applies to them:"

Violet eyes affixed to mine.

"'All things may become necessary in time, but if the needed thing requires a deal with a devil, ask yourself if you really need it so badly'."

* * *

**A/N: Yep, Taylor's a Witch after all!**

**Also, to make it obvious - there are more motives for sins in Hell and Earth than that which exist in Taylor's philosophy. Given how the Medusas rely on subjectivity and what she considers a sin...yeah, sometimes the most gullible person in the room is the one who thinks she can read what people can hide.**

**The concept of kytons being a separate race of devil altogether, along with augur kytons and agathions, belong to the Pathfinder license, and thus Paizo. Before you ask, the reason I'm using agathions as the NG celestial race and not guardianals is that I'm honestly more familiar with Pathfinder celestials.**


End file.
